Something Special
by lordhellebore
Summary: WIP: Having resumed spying, Severus begins to crack. Can Remus help? How does Lucius fit in? What clichéd secrets do I make our Potions Master hide? And will Severus be able to help Remus get over Sirius's death?
1. Something Unexpected

**A/N:** Since this is my very first attempt t fanfiction (and writing something in a language other than my mother tongue), I am more than ashamed of the first ...let's say, ten chapters of this story. Be so kind as to overlook it and rest assured that at least concerning grammar and vocabulary use it will get better. About the contents I'm not that sure ;) If you don't like the usual "poor Snape with bad childhood etc."-cliché, this is probably not for you.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters or anything else related to Harry Potter; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. No money is being made.

**_Slight AU-ness:_**

1) Lucius Malfoy isn't in Azkaban (I won't mention it expilcitly, since I somehow managed to forget he was captured when I began writing. So just imagine he's escaped only a few weeks after his imprisonment, which is also indicated by what Draco tells Harry at the end of OotP)  
2) Harry is allowed elsewhere than Hogwarts and Privet Drive (see chapter 10)

* * *

**Chapter 01 - Something Unexpected **

Professor Remus Lupin was standing in front of the large fireplace in the living room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. As there was only a small fire lit, the room was dark with shadows, the ancient furniture looking like some strange motionless animals.

Remus stared into the flickering flames, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. It had been a long day as he had prepared everything for the Order's meeting, which would take place the very next morning. Now he was tired and his head ached, his temples sending out pricks of pain all the way down to the back of his head. He sipped of the whiskey and sighed.

_'At least I should be happy about teaching Defence once more,'_ he thought.

Only he had not been happy once since the day Sirius had died. He had another sip of whiskey. Albus had asked him to return to Hogwarts in the first week of the summer holidays, and although the new term would start in three days, he had not even bothered so much as to think about planning his classes. He knew it would have kept him busy. It would have kept him from brooding over Sirius's death. He also knew it had not been a good idea to spend almost the entire summer in Grimmauld Place, where everything reminded him of his dead friend.

Nevertheless, he wanted to remember. It made him feel less guilty of what had happened that night in the Department of Mysteries. It was ridiculous, of course, but somehow he felt he should have prevented Sirius from leaving the house that night. He should have been here when it happened. He should have forced him to stay, for his own good.

_'I should have known.' _

Of all people _he_ should have known. Who else if not Sirius' so-called "best friend"? He should have known that Sirius would not just sit here and wait until it all was over. He should have known. But now it was too late.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," he whispered, when suddenly, hell broke loose.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTHY MUDBLOODS AND HALF-BREEDS! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, DISGUSTING RUBBISH!"

Someone had rung the doorbell. Mumbling, Remus made his way to the dark entrance hall. The portrait of Mrs Black was fuming with rage, the heavy black curtains flapping wildly.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN MY HOUSE! LOUSY HALF-BREED! A WEREWOLF! DON'T YOU HAVE -"

The screaming stopped abruptly when he managed to draw the curtains. He sighed with relief. Then the doorbell rang again.

"SCUM OF THE EARTH! SHAME OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! HOW DARE YOU - "

Remus angrily pulled on the curtains, making them screech over the rail. His head was aching even worse as he hurried towards the door and flung it open with a jolt.

"DO! NOT! RING! THE! BELL!" he yelled at the visitor.

"MISBEGOTTEN VERMIN! LOWEST OF THE LOW! THAT I MUST LIVE TO SEE SUCH DAYS! LOATHOME CREATURES! WORTHLESS..."

Groaning with annoyance and pain Remus rushed towards the portrait and, for the third time, drew the curtains.

"FILTY LITTLE HALF - "

Silence. Sweet silence. He buried his aching head in his hands.

"It seems the two of you are quite enjoying yourselves. As for me, I would rather prefer a civilized conversation. Not that there is much I should wish to talk about with you."

The sneering voice was unmistakable. Remus looked up to face the pale, raven-haired man who was standing in front of him, a malignant smile playing on his lips.

"Good evening, Snape."

* * *

Remus was lying in bed, having trouble getting to sleep. He was still worrying about Sirius, and moreover, he was more than slightly annoyed with Snape. The man bore an arrogance which could hardly be surpassed by anyone. Without even an appropriate greeting, he had rushed into the kitchen and flung himself into a chair, leaving it to Remus to carry in his heavy case. He then had demanded a whiskey and drunk it without a word. Remus had not expected him to make small talk, but at least he could have stopped treating him like a house-elf.

"At least that stupid mutt had a good taste of whiskey. That, at least, if nothing else."

That had been the point when he had left in silence, clenching his teeth, his temples close to exploding.

Yes, Snape had to manage an extremely difficult and dangerous task, but that did not give him the right to treat other people in such a way. Not that he ever had treated anyone with respect – except Dumbledore – and he had always been annoying and sent people round the bend, but he had not been that ruthless.

_'Maybe his existence as a spy is gnawing at him.' _

Snape had just returned from a Death Eater's meeting. Now that he thought about it, Remus suddenly beheld the image of the Potions Master as he had sat in the kitchen before: Pale, exhausted - although he tried to hide it – with a somehow numb expression in his eyes that, with hindsight, sent cold chills down Remus's spine. How would it be to be a spy in Voldemort's rows? To see people being tortured and killed…to have to do it yourself? How could you cope with the horror, the guilt? How had Snape managed to do during the last 16 years? With these unpleasant thoughts still in mind Remus finally dozed off into a restless sleep.

It was still dark when he awoke. There had been a noise or something, or maybe he had only dreamt it. He listened. Nothing. He closed his eyes, hoping to be able to go back to sleep soon. He really needed to sleep to get through the following day.

There it was again! Remus almost fell out of the bed when struggling to get to his feet as quickly as possible. Could there be an attack on the house? He tiptoed out of his room and stood still, listening. For a couple of seconds there was silence, then loud screams echoed through the corridor. They were coming from Snape's bedroom! Assuming the man to be in whatever kind of danger, he pushed open the door.

_"Lumos!" _

His wand, which he had grabbed before leaving his room, flared up, lighting the room with a greenish glow. No one was there, except for Snape, who was tossing and turning in his bed, groaning.

"What on earth…" Remus mumbled and stepped near the bed. "Snape!"

No reaction.

"Snape!" louder now.

The other man gave another scream and started to cry, eyes still closed.

"Merlin!" Remus rolled his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He seized the man, who was drenched in cold sweat, by the shoulders and shook him a little.

"Snape! Wake up, you are dreaming!"

Snape did not awake but raised his arms before his head and began to shake violently.

"I… I'm sorry, Da-daddy", he whimpered. "I love you, Daddy!"

Remus was taken aback. He let go of the other man who immediately curled up into a foetal position. For some moments he just sat there, staring at Snape unbelievingly. The heart-wrenching sobs finally woke him from his bewilderment. Wondering if he had ever done something as strange as this – including transforming into a wolf every month – he bent down to the whimpering Snape and carefully wrapped his arms around the trembling man.

* * *

Daddy had been angry with him. Severus did not know why – he never knew – but it must be his fault. This he knew for sure. For why else should daddy be so furious?

He had tried not to cry when Daddy had been shouting at him. Daddy did not like that. He did not want him to act like a baby. But when Daddy's voice had become louder and louder and he had kept on shouting, his head red with anger and his big fists clenched, Severus had not been able to fight back the tears.

Daddy had become even more angry then. When the punches had been raining down on him, he had said the only thing he could think of: He was sorry.

He was sorry for upsetting Daddy that much. He did not want to upset Daddy. He did not want to make mistakes. He did not want to be a bad boy, because he loved his Daddy. Every good son loved his Daddy, and he desperately wished to be a good son. But he had failed again.

_'I'm worthless'_, he thought, repeating what Daddy would tell him almost every day. It must be true. Daddy was always right.

Whining with pain and fear Severus lay on the floor, waiting for what would come next.

Suddenly he felt arms being gently wrapped around him. He flinched at the touch. Tender hands stroked his hair.

"Shhh, it's alright. It's only a dream."

Mummy?

"It's okay, you needn't be afraid. I'm here."

Mummy was here! He buried his head in her robes, crying with relief. He felt himself being gently rocked, and it was so soothing that he wanted it never to stop.

"Shhh, don't cry, you are safe now."

Severus knew he was not safe, because mummy was never safe herself. She could not protect him from daddy as she could not protect herself, but this time it had only been a dream. He snuggled deeper into the tight hug. When after some time he finally could stop crying and had calmed down he just stayed in her arms for some minutes, enjoying the feeling of being held. He loved the warmth and the feeling that he was cared about.

"Mummy…" he whispered and opened his eyes.


	2. A Thankless Task

**Chapter 02 – A Thankless Task**

When Remus awoke in the morning, he did not feel any better than he had felt the previous evening. His head was still throbbing with pain, and to say he was well rested would have been ridiculous. Moreover, he just had to think of the events of the night to increase his fretfulness.

"What on earth was going on in his head?" he murmured while he dressed slowly, trying to move his aching head as little as possible.

When he had been sitting on Snape's bed, gently rocking the other man and making comforting noises, he had almost forgotten _whom_ he was holding. Snape had clung to his robes for dear life, shivering all over and crying so hard he could hardly breathe. Remus's only thought had been to soothe him, to make him feel safe. It had not mattered to him that this was Snape – the man who would always make nasty remarks at his cost, the man who never missed a chance to ridicule him.

Eventually, the sobs and the shaking had subsided, but Remus had still held Snape for some minutes, feeling that the other man needed this silent comfort.

"Mummy…" he had heard him whisper, and had hardly had time to wonder about it, for suddenly he had heard a scream and found himself lying on the floor, his whole body aching from the strike. Looking up, he had seen Snape, who was standing on the opposite site of the bed, eyes blazing with fury.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Room," the Potions Master had hissed through gritted teeth. There had been such hate in his eyes and voice that Remus had done as he was told without looking back once.

As a consequence of this he had not been able to get to sleep for about two hours, mulling over the incident over and over again. It had been 4 o'clock in the morning when he had finally fallen asleep, two hours before the alarm-clock roused him.

Remus sighed as he went down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

* * *

Severus Snape could not bring himself to get up. Instead, he lay in bed, staring at the white ceiling as if there was a specifically interesting painting to marvel at. He did not want to go downstairs. He did not want to face the werewolf. It was too embarrassing. He must have forgotten to cast a Silencing Charm on the room this time, as he had been too absorbed in thought, too tired, too depressed. Therefore, Lupin had heard him scream.

Why had he cared? This question had occurred to him the very moment Lupin had closed the door behind him.

Opening his eyes, Severus had snapped back into reality. Someone was touching him. Someone held him so he could hardly move. Instinctively he had recoiled, thereby pushing away the other man so he had fallen off the bed. Lupin! What was he doing here? Why did he touch him? He could feel his heart beating heavily with shock. No one was to touch him!

Only when Lupin had left had he remembered that a few seconds ago, he had not been scared by the man's touch but had enjoyed the comfort he had been offered so willingly.

And why? He could not think of any reason why Lupin would do this. Why should he want to help him? Why should he hold him, soothe him, touch him so tenderly… so different from father and – no! He had cut off the thought, but it had been too late. The images of the dream had assailed him; images of his father…and others. A whimper had arisen from his throat as he had crawled under the blanket, coiling up to a ball, beginning to shake again at the effort to fight back the fear – but in vain. Don't think of it, don't…

Suddenly he had almost wished for Lupin to still be here, holding him. Protecting him. His arms wrapped tightly around himself while trying to recall the gentle embrace, Severus had finally managed to fall asleep again.

* * *

At eight o'clock the first members of the Order, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, arrived, followed by Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher – who, as always, smelled as if he had spent the night in a dustbin – and Emmeline Vance. At half past nine Molly and Arthur Weasley turned up, bringing all their children – except Percy – plus Harry and Hermione, who had spent the last week of the holidays at The Burrow. Finally, at eleven o'clock, the Order was complete.

Each of them had rung the bell.

The meeting had been summoned for half past eleven, and now, five minutes before, only Snape was still absent. Remus was about to come for him – feeling rather uneasy, after all - when in a whirl of robes Snape finally rushed into the living room. He looked horrible: dark circles under the black eyes stood out against his ghostly pale skin, his hair was hanging down in greasy streaks, his mouth was skewed in an angry grimace. During the whole meeting he only spoke when it was his turn to report what he had found out as spy in the rows of the Death Eaters, but as there was hardly anything new, this took only about five minutes, after which he again retreated to his brooding silence.

Remus did not quite know how to behave towards the man, but it seemed obvious that Snape was feeling extremely uneasy, so he decided to pretend that nothing had happened at all. This was not difficult, as the Potions Master completely ignored him, addressing himself straight to Dumbledore. Even when the meeting had ended, he would not speak a single word to anyone, but immediately returned to his room.

* * *

After dinner, Albus Dumbledore was sitting in a large arm-chair in the study, staring into the lively fire. A little while ago, he had had a talk with someone – or rather he had been the one talking while the other one had said as little as possible, scowling and obviously wanting to be left alone.

Albus sighed. He was worried… yes, indeed, he was worried sick about someone, a man who had been like a son to him for the past sixteen years. He did not know exactly how the other one felt about this, but he himself had always had paternal feelings towards the younger man, worrying about his future when he had turned to darkness, being relieved beyond imagination when he had decided to return to the light. His life had not been easy since then, but now… Albus sighed again.

_'I should have prevented him from doing this,' _he thought.

He had volunteered, yes, but shouldn't he have blocked him from doing what was a vital aid to their purpose instead of letting him go and face things which might destroy him, the danger being as much a psychological as a physical one?

He put his head in his hands. _'If only he would talk to me… anyone… I am sure it would help him if he was not alone with this burden…'_

His thoughts were interrupted when suddenly the door opened and someone came in.

"Oh, Albus, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Remus, no, please stay," he replied, knowing that it would not help him to brood over this matter now.

"You look as if you have been thinking about something," Remus said, sitting down in another chair by the fireside.

"Yes, indeed," he answered, deciding to take the offer and talk to someone about his worries instead of bottling them up inside.

"In fact, I am worried about Severus. I do not know if anyone has noticed but he did not look well at all today. And I had a talk with him just an hour ago. His task is asking too much of him, I am afraid." In saying this Albus noticed a strange glint in Remus's eyes. "Remus, have you noticed anything unusual about him lately?" he asked, assuming there was something behind it. The younger man seemed to hesitate.

"Remus, please, if you know anything, tell me, I am seriously concerned about him. No, I am afraid, if you want the truth. I am afraid something might happen, although I do not know what."

This seemed to cause Remus to make up his mind, for he now slowly began, "Yes, there has been something rather_… _odd_…"_

While listening to Remus giving an account of the events of the night, Albus's worries actually increased.

'_He told me the nightmares had ceased years ago! And I believed him, fool that I am! If only I could DO something! But he would attend Death Eater meetings every day rather than talk to me, I am sure.'_

Remus had finished by now and was waiting for the headmaster to collect his thoughts.

"Thank you, Remus," Albus said in a low voice, feeling weary and, he hated to admit it even to himself, helpless. "I am glad to know about it, although it only confirms my worries."

For a couple of minutes, neither of the two men spoke, but just sat in their chairs and listened to the crackle of the fire. Finally Albus looked up and found himself gazing into a pair of hazel eyes. Hardly repressed concern was flickering in these eyes. Concern about Severus, he realised. He smiled inwardly. Remus was so kind-hearted that he would worry about anyone who was in difficulties, even if this person was Severus Snape_…_

Considering what he had learnt from the younger man some minutes ago, a sudden idea occurred to the old wizard. He was not the right person for Severus to confide in about this matter, he knew this quite well. Although he was the nearest thing to a father the child had ever had, there was a barrier between them they had never been able to overcome.

"Remus," he said, "I would like to ask something of you."

"Of course, what is it?" Remus replied.

"Do not be rash, you do not even know what it was I wanted you to do," Albus said. His stern voice seemed to startle the younger man.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you won't ask me to do anything you wouldn't do yourself," Remus finally said, frowning.

"No, you are right. And I would do it myself if I could, believe me. I would like you to keep an eye on Severus. I know it is asking much," he quickly added as he saw Remus opening his mouth to say something. "But as I said, I cannot do it myself. I am very concerned about him, but he will not let me help. What he is doing for us is eating away at him from within, I feel." He paused, then continued. "I know it is a thankless task, but I would not ask you if I did not feel it to be necessary. Please, just keep an eye on him, spend some time with him. And if he is willing to accept your help_… _please do not deny it."

* * *

Just like the last evening, Remus was not able to fall asleep. It was half past eleven by now, and he had gone to bed at about nine o'clock in order to sleep enough, so the mad dwarf in his head, who seemed to be obsessed with playing the tambourine, would be gone when he awoke in the morning. Unfortunately, his thoughts would not let him sleep but again and again trailed off to one certain matter – or rather, one certain person. Snape.

The man had not left his room until now, had not attended dinner and even had refused the meat loaf and mashed potatoes Molly had brought him, not even responding to her knocking at his door.

Remus could understand he was embarrassed, as they were not best friends, to put it mildly. But to make such a fuss about it_… _he sighed, failing in his efforts to find a reasonably comfortable position in bed.

Was Snape also lying awake, brooding over the same things, he wondered, or was he so lucky as to be able to sleep by now? And if he was sleeping, would he dream again? This thought suddenly caused him to feel worried about the man. Of course, tonight he would have cast a Silencing Charm on his room – by the way, why had he not done so last night? – and then a bomb could explode in his room without anyone hearing it.

"I can hardly go and check on him," he mumbled, annoyed that he was so concerned about Snape of all people.

But although he disliked him, he still did not approve of the thought of the Potions Master fighting his however natured demons all on his own. The events of the last night assailed him and made him frown. He had never thought there could be anything that would have such an effect on Snape, but after all, he did not know him very well.

And that was exactly the point: he did not know him well, certainly not well enough to help him some way or other. Try to befriend him_… _Snape would laugh at him. Why had Dumbledore entrusted _him_ of all people with this task? Snape had no reason to trust him. And, more important, _why on earth had he agreed_? The whole affair was going to be very complicated and unpleasant, this he knew for sure. And yet_… _he could not forget the strange numb expression in Snape's eyes, nor the sympathy that he had felt when comforting the crying man.

However things would develop, he decided, he would try not to betray the trust Albus had bestowed him.


	3. First Steps

**Chapter 03 – First Steps **

About six weeks later, on a Friday evening, Severus Snape was sitting in his sparsely furnished living room deep down in the dungeons of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, staring fixedly at the vial on the desk in font of him.

The Wolfsbane Potion. Tomorrow night would be full moon, and the werewolf would need to take the potion in order not to harm anyone while being in his canine form.

Four weeks ago he had sent a house-elf to bring Lupin the potion, thus avoiding a confrontation with the man. He still had been far too embarrassed about the incident at Grimmauld Place to feel able to face him. However, he knew he could not get around him forever; at least at the staff meetings he would have to deal with him, and, of course, they had to eat at the very same table thrice a day. Some colleagues had already asked bemused questions concerning his odd behaviour towards Lupin, which consisted of complete disregard.

But what else should he do? Hot embarrassment took hold of him every time he saw Lupin. That anyone should have seen him so weak, so vulnerable… it aroused in him the wish to hide from the world and all its inhabitants. Of course this was no option, and sooner or later he would have to face Lupin.

Severus frowned. Well, if he had to deal with this, he might as well begin right now. Better having done with it quickly, since the first time was always the worst. He would bring the werewolf the potion this evening and just hope for his discretion, which he had appreciated very much during the past weeks, as Lupin had not tried once to bring up the matter. After all, there seemed to be _some_ reason in the man.

When he arrived at Lupin's private rooms at the east wing, he took a deep breath before knocking. The door swung open and he found himself in front of a smiling Lupin.

"Good evening, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"In fact, I'm here to do something for you," Severus retorted stiffly, holding out the vial with the Wolfsbane in it.

"Oh, thank you. You know, I appreciate your help very much."

"It's not that I have a choice, is it?" he snapped. Albus had insisted he would brew the potion for the half-breed when Lupin had first begun his work as DADA teacher three years ago, and of course this time it was not different at all.

"Thank you all the same," the other man said, still smiling a- to Severus's mind - somewhat impertinent smile.

Having finished with his business, Severus was about to turn and leave - after all, this had not been as bad as he had feared – when suddenly he was confronted with the question, "Would you like to come in and have a glass of wine with me? I have bought this great claret at a wine store at London – an insider's tip. But I don't like drinking alone."

Far too surprised to catch a clear thought - he had never dreamt of Lupin inviting him to whatever kind of leisure-time activity and, moreover, was absorbed in the attempt not to be totally overcome with embarrassment and shame in the other man's presence - Severus heard himself say "Yes, why not?" Before he could even curse himself for his idiocy, he found himself sitting in a large red wing chair in front of Lupin's fireplace, a glass of wine in his hand.

'_What the hell am I doing here?'_ he asked himself as he took a sip of the wine, which was quite excellent. He shot a suspicious glance at Lupin, who now had poured himself a glass of wine and then went over to a closet on the other side of the living room. The man had taste, Severus had to admit, referring as much to the claret as to the furnishing – two of the red wing chairs, a sofa and a carpet of the same colour, a cherrywood desk, cherrywood bookshelves, the closet and a small amount of pictures and indoor plants evoked a homely and comfortable impression, very unlike his own spartan chambers.

When Lupin returned to the fireplace, he was carrying a large chessboard, which he carefully placed on the desk in front of them. Bewildered, Severus noticed that he was wearing what seemed to be thin, brown gloves.

"Do you play?" Lupin asked brightly, settling down in the other wing chair and taking a sip of his wine.

Severus glanced at the expensive-looking game of wizards chess in front of him. The figures were made of metal, black steel and silver -- therefore the gloves, he realised -- their clothes and flags consisted of black velvet and white silk, both with skilful silver applications. The chessboard itself was made of ebony in which the white ivory pads were embedded, and its edges were decorated with baroque silver fittings. It must have cost a fortune.

Stunned by the exquisiteness of the game – in fact, he had never seen anything like it before – he nodded. The figures were floundering with excitement, as if eager to begin a game.

"I got it from my grandfather only a few months before his death. He had always refused to sell it, regardless of how much we needed the money. I was nine years old by then, and he taught me how to play. You'll take the black ones, I suppose," Lupin continued and turned the board so the white figures were on his side and the black ones in front of Severus.

Soon they were involved in a tricky game, and they found each other to be excellent tacticians. They did not talk much but instead were completely absorbed in their moves and counterattacks, trying for almost two hours to succeed in overcoming the other one. Finally, Severus's queen knocked down Lupin's king with a triumphant whoop.

"You are an excellent player ," Lupin said, leaning back in his chair. "I always enjoy having a worthy opponent. Unfortunately, Albus is the only other one who could beat me so far, and he doesn't have much time to play."

Pleased with himself, Severus emptied his – for the second time refilled - glass.

"I would not have thought that any of you Gryffindors could play halfway tactically intelligent. But that was not too bad." he replied.

Lupin's mouth was twitching as he obviously tried to suppress a grin.

"I think I should go now," Severus decided, getting up from the wing chair and straightening his robes.

Lupin escorted him to the exit. "Don't you think I have the right to challenge you to a return game? Next Friday, same time?" he asked as Severus had stepped through the door.

Severus hesitated. He had only accepted the invitation because Lupin had caught him in an unheedful moment, otherwise he would never have thought of spending an evening with him. Or anyone else. He was not fond of the company of other people, as he found most of them to be extremely annoying. They wanted to make small talk or, even worse, talk about personal things - something he certainly would not approve of.

Lupin, however, had shown no signs of this irritating behaviour. They had done nothing but played chess, talking only about their moves, and he had in fact enjoyed the evening, as it was some time ago since he had played his favourite game. Once he had overcome his first embarrassment, he had not even felt _that _uneasy in Lupin's presence, as he now realised with no little astonishment.

His colleague did not seem to have any interest in reviving the unpleasant scene at Grimmauld Place, either. Severus found himself thinking Lupin's offer to be acceptable, so he answered, "Yes, maybe I should win another time. Just to show you Gryffindors how to play properly." And with this he made his way down the corridor, robes billowing behind him. He did not look back to see a wide smile spread across Lupin's face.

* * *

Remus was extraordinarily pleased with himself when he returned to his chair and poured himself the rest of the claret. He sat down and looked into the fire that flickered lively, letting his thoughts ramble as they liked to.

Snape's visit had been a real surprise. The Potions Master had ignored him completely during the last six weeks, and Remus had not tried to force a conversation on him, knowing such an attempt would certainly destroy all chances of ever getting warm with the close-mouthed man.

He had expected some house-elf to bring him his potion, like it had happened the previous month. When he instead had seen his colleague standing right in front of him, actually _talking_ to him – and be it only because he had to – he had seized the opportunity, hoping to take Snape by surprise so he would be too stunned to refuse his offer. And it had worked.

He had acted completely on intuition, proposing a game of chess because he supposed that Snape, with his sharp intelligence, was a talented player. To tell the truth, he was really impressed by the man's abilities, for, as he had pointed out before, he had never met anyone who had been able to beat him, except for Albus. But this, as he thought with a slight prick of bitterness, might be due to the fact that not many people were willing to associate with a werewolf, not to mention play chess with him.

Snape, however, had accepted, and it was only now that Remus realised that he did not see this evening merely as the first step on the way to establishing some kind of relationship with Snape, but also as something he himself had enjoyed quite a lot. He had been deprived of human contact for so long a time - yes, there had been the year as a teacher and, after that, Sirius, but that had been something different - that he actually enjoyed the company of a man who usually behaved as if suffering from indigestion.

This evening Snape had behaved considerably civilly, Remus thought. There had been no attempt to allude to his werewolf nature, which was quite stunning. Well, Snape had talked more to his chess figures than to him, but he was an introverted man, and after all, Remus had not expected the evening to be that agreeable. It had been a real success.

* * *

One week later, Remus was waiting for Snape, shifting uneasily in his wing-chair in front of the fireplace. He had already prepared the chessboard and put a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table.

Would he come? He was not quite sure of it. Well, Snape had not ignored him during the last week. He could not ask for more at the moment, especially because Snape still did not seem to be in the best condition. He was even more pale and taciturn than usual and, if you wanted to believe the students' chattering between classes, more strict and unfair than he had ever been before.

Every time he thought of Snape's distress, Remus was reminded of the incident at Grimmauld Place, but at the time being he could not do anything concerning his colleague's well-being.

'_I wish I could, but I'll have to wait. I only hope I can convince him to meet me more often… to open up to me…'_

At eight o'clock Remus heard Snape's voice in front of the portrait hole, and when the Potions Master stepped in, Remus was pouring them some wine.

"You came," he said somewhat sheepishly, not knowing how to begin a conversation.

"Of course I came," Snape answered irritably. "I told you so last week."

"Er… yes, indeed." Remus decided they should begin playing, as he could absolutely do without making a fool of himself. Snape made no objections.

-.-.-.-

The game had taken about two hours, and it had not been easy at all to gain the victory. When he finally checkmated Snape, Remus asked in a pleased voice, "What did you say about 'showing us Gryffindors how to play properly'?"

Snape scowled. "I was playing well below my standard," he mumbled.

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"I have a headache," Snape stated. "If it was not for those unnerving Gryffindor first-years in my last class, I would of course have won."

"Oh, of course," Remus replied, trying hard to suppress a chuckle.

"One of them managed to blow up his cauldron with only two ingredients in it," Snape continued, ignoring Remus's muffled coughing. "He will most certainly become Longbottom's successor." He looked positively disgusted at the thought of his favourite victim. "I would never have thought there could be another muddlehead like him."

"Oh, I don't know about Neville. He's doing quite well in Defence," Remus said. He suppressed the urge to point out that no wonder Neville had always found some way or other to blow up his cauldron or at least ruin his potion when he had still been taking Potions classes - with Snape scowling at him and only waiting for him to make a mistake. He had it in for Neville, and the boy was so self-conscious that he had been responsive to his teacher's taunting.

"Just waving about with wands and pronouncing a simple incantation – that is by no means comparable to the exact and artful science of potions," Snape retorted.

Remus felt annoyance surge up within him. _'Waving about with wands, indeed,'_ he thought _'So why does he keep reapplying for the Defence post every year - if that's such an inferior kind of magic?'_ But he must not show any sign of irritation, he admonished himself. He did not want to ruin this at the first opportunity.

"I suppose both are necessary and useful," he managed to say in a calm voice. "So, will you have your revenge?"

"Yes, I most certainly will. I'm not going to accept tonight's outcome."

Remus smiled inwardly. Maybe he could make this a fixed arrangement: Chess with Snape, every Friday evening.

"Next Friday, same time?" he asked.

Snape nodded. "I will go now. There are some essays I have to correct for Monday. It will take me hours, considering their doubtless substandard quality, so I will need my sleep."

"Good night," Remus said as the other man stepped through the door.

Snape turned round and shot him a suspicious look. "Good night," he replied, and was gone.


	4. Realisations

**Chapter 04 – Realisations**

During the next five weeks, they met regularly every Friday evening in Remus's chambers, playing chess, drinking wine and talking little beyond the necessary. Snape did not exhibit any signs of what he thought about their meetings, but for the time being Remus was perfectly content with having established a kind of relationship with his colleague that did not consist in exchanging insults. Not that Snape was friendly, either.

Nevertheless, Remus realised that somehow he liked spending time with the grumpy Potions Master - although it was not always easy to rein himself in when Snape would backbite his Gryffindor students. Or anyone else. But then, he did not do this for fun, and he had not expected it to be easy. In fact, he was quite surprised how well it had worked so far.

Since the third Friday in November happened to be full moon, they had agreed on moving their appointment to the following evening. When Remus entered the Great Hall for breakfast, however, he soon began wondering if this had been such a good idea, for today Gryffindor and Slytherin would compete in Quidditch, and whoever would win, it would have the most annoying effects on their appointment. Provided that victory would fall upon Gryffindor - which he hoped would be the case - he would have to deal with an even more ill-tempered Snape than usual; if Slytherin won, on the other hand, Snape would be unbearably self-contented, which seemed to be even worse.

_'Great prospects either way,'_ he thought gloomily, sitting down at the teachers' table. His head, as well as his whole body, was aching murderously, as was always the case the day after full moon. Normally, he would have spent at least half the day in bed, but today he had forced himself to do otherwise - taking a horribly large dose of painkilling potions - since he did not want to miss Gryffindor's Quidditch match against Slytherin.

The real reason that he had forced himself out of bed, however, was another one, even though he did not like to admit it to himself. He did not want to think about it, now that the night was finally over. Now that he had, for another month, escaped the mental anguish that had been increasing every full moon, ever since…

Remus took a deep breath, trying to leave these thoughts behind. If he had stayed in bed, he would inevitably have begun brooding, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Five minutes later, Snape entered the room in his usual whirl of robes, heading towards the teacher's table, a horribly smug expression on his face. Remus sighed. It would be a really _great_ day. Snape sat down beside Remus and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Are you ready?" he asked, a smirk curling his lips.

"Ready for what?"

"To see Gryffindor lose, of course," the Potions Master replied calmly, as if this were the most likely thing to happen and anyone who thought otherwise was an idiot. "It's absolutely impossible for you to beat us this time - there have been some great improvements to our team," he went on between spoons full of porridge.

Remus groaned inwardly. _'If I wasn't a former Gryffindor, I still would wish for them to win, just because I won't be able to endure this longer than half an hour.'_

He quickly finished his breakfast - to tell the truth, he was not hungry at all - and left for the Quidditch pitch, which, over the next 30 minutes, gradually filled with people. Although it was cold, the air was clear and the sun was shining brightly, trying to warm them with all the power it had left. It could not have been better conditions for a Quidditch game, and Remus's mood rose slightly. Maybe he had been too pessimistic.

Finally, the game began. The "great improvements" mentioned by Snape turned out to be a replacement of half the Slytherin team, exchanging the original players with even more gorilla-like figures. That, however, did not have the desired effect, for they were playing poorly, and Remus wondered whether no one had thought of the fact that in order to play Quidditch successfully, the players were supposed to have at least some brains.

After only twenty minutes, Gryffindor was leading seventy to ten, and the tribunes exploded in a tumult of red and gold and deafening cheers when Harry caught the Snitch in a spectacular dive, snatching it away right under dumbfounded Malfoy's nose.

The rest of the day went by in a rush. After taking a most needed nap, Remus had spent the afternoon preparing Monday's classes so he would not have to do it on Sunday. He liked to have a free Sunday, when he would sit by the fireside and read, or maybe just stroll over the Hogwarts grounds, enjoying the rough but nonetheless enchanting nature the ancient castle was surrounded with.

But although the day had been relatively pleasant, he could not help keeping the thoughts of the morning at the back of his mind. Snape. He certainly would be most annoyed at the defeat his house had been forced to suffer.

_'Whatever will happen, just stay patient,'_ Remus told himself while enumerating the Red Caps he would show to his third-year class on Monday.

Yes. Patience. One of his strong points. He could stay calm, no matter what he was confronted with; he could pretend he had not heard anything, even if someone had just made the most scathing remark. This had been vital as long as he could remember. Otherwise his soul would not have survived…

Half-breed, monster, freak, scum, beast… the list could be continued ad libitum. Everyone who had learned he was a werewolf had turned from him in disgust or fear. Well, not his family nor Albus, of course, nor his colleagues here at Hogwarts - which mostly was due to the fact that many of them had known him since he had been eleven years old. Most other people, however, had never been able to overcome their prejudices. Except for Sirius, James and Lily. And Peter… but he had erased his friend Peter from his memory. Now there was only Peter the traitor. The man who was responsible for James's and Lily's death. And Sirius's death, too.

Sirius.

There he was again. Back at the thoughts which would not let him sleep at night, which would assault him every time he saw Harry, his friend's godson, which would creep into his mind just at the moment he thought he had gotten rid of them… at least for some hours. He felt his colleagues look at him sympathetically when they thought he did not notice. They knew it had hit him hard when Sirius had died, which was natural. But they did not know _how_ hard it was; they did not know what problems he and Sirius had been forced to face after the latter's escape from Azkaban...

_'I don't think of him that much when I'm with Snape…'_

This was ridiculous. Of course he did not think of Sirius in the Potions Master's presence – he was far too preoccupied with bracing himself in order to not ruin the truce which had developed between them.

_'Truce? Last time I checked, you said you actually _liked_ spending time with him.'_

This tiny voice in his head was most distracting. Yes, then, he somehow enjoyed their meetings, but they did only take place because he had promised it to Albus.

_'And because you are seriously worried about him.'_

Was he? Images formed before his inner eye: Snape, clinging to his robes, crying and trembling, desperately in need of comfort… Snape, looking all weary and sickly… Snape, sitting at the teachers' table or in front of the chessboard, with this alarmingly numb look in his eyes…

Yes, there was no way to deny it. He had finally come to really care about him…

* * *

_7:59 p.m. _

'I'm late.'

But did he want to go? Was he able to go? He was not sure. Slowly, Severus forced himself to loosen the grip of his arms around his legs, which were risen to his chest.

_'Do I want to go?'_

He could send a house-elf with a note telling he was ill or just did not have the time to keep their appointment. He could stay in his rooms - in bed, as it was - and recover in safety, and tomorrow he would have regained complete control.

Control. Everything was about control. It was vital. Control yourself. Control your emotions. He hated losing control as it had happened at Grimmauld Place that very night. As it kept happening. As it had happened just now.

-

_8:05 p.m._

Severus brought a shaking hand up to his face to wipe the salty liquid away from his cheeks. And where was his wand? He had to make himself presentable; there was no way he was going to let others see he had lost his composure.

_'So I will go?'_

Yes, he decided, he wanted to meet Lupin, despite his present condition. No… not despite, but because of his condition! This realisation caused him to feel severely confused. What the hell did this mean - why would he wish to be with the werewolf right now?

_'Because being with him calms you down. It is what you need right now. He does you good.'_

-

_8:25 p.m. _

'Twenty minutes?'

Severus realised that he had again clasped his arms around himself. He must have spent the last twenty minutes in this position, although he did not remember time passing by.

_'Stay calm,'_ he told himself. _'Do not panic. Just stay calm, just control yourself.'_ There was no reason to worry.

_'Yes, there IS!'_ his mind yelled. Memory gaps were not a good sign at all. He had hoped it would remain a thing of the past, losing contact with the world when something deeply upset him - and the fact that he somehow seemed to need Lupin did upset him. It alarmed him to the core, and he almost began to hyperventilate. It felt as if an iron chain had entwined around his chest.

_'No, don't panic, don't panic! Breathe deeply. Breathe. In… out… in… out…'_

-

_8:35 p.m._

With a great effort Severus had managed to calm down bit by bit. Breathing was still painful, but at least he no longer felt like choking. He had to hurry if he still wanted to meet Lupin.

_'Do I?'_

He really did not know. It was most distressing that he seemed to have developed feelings other than scorn for the werewolf. He was, he now could no longer deny it, almost thankful that Lupin wanted to spend time with him regularly. The calm and friendly man had a soothing influence on Severus which was most needed in the present situation.

Need. He could not allow himself to need anything from anyone. He could not risk getting into any kind of friendly contact. It was too risky, it made him too vulnerable.

_'And, most of all, you do not deserve it.'_

Yes. However much he might be in need of it, he did not deserve the help Lupin was unknowingly bestowing him. All this was his own fault, and he deserved everything that had happened to him. Even if his condition worsened further… he shuddered at the thought. How much had he wished to leave behind the panic attacks and the times when he could not remember the last minutes or even the last hour… and the nightmares. Well, the nightmares had never ceased… but he had not had them every night…

Severus fought hard to not lose control again, slight tremors running through his body as he forced back the tears and the overwhelming pain. There was no point in letting himself go that much. He did deserve what he got, and he had to live with it. Things were that easy.

He would never be able to make amends for his deeds, but he could pay. And pay he did. The price was appropriate to his guilt, he kept telling himself every time he thought he could not stand it any longer, could not face the cause of his anguish another time.

_"Are you sure you want to do this?"_ Albus had asked him. The caring look in the headmaster's eyes had mortified him to the core. He was not worthy of Albus's care, had not deserved what the old wizard had done for him sixteen years ago. Albus kept telling him the opposite, but, as Severus thought bitterly, of course he could not understand. Neither Albus nor anyone else knew him well enough to see that he indeed had only gotten an adequate punishment for his main deed.

Existing.

-

_8:45 p.m._

Severus forced himself to stop the soft rocking he was using in order to comfort himself since he could remember and got up.

_'What are you going to do?'_

Lupin. He would visit Lupin. With shaking hands, Severus straightened his crinkled robes, then looked around for his wand. He found it on the nightstand and pointed it at himself, murmuring a quick incantation. As he hurried through the dungeons, he brushed aside every objection that occurred to him.

_'We only play chess. And he does not try to get anything personal out of me. It is not dangerous.'_

There was a voice in the back of his mind that told him he was wrong and would regret this, but he shrugged it off. Lupin did not pose a threat, and although he did not deserve the comfort he - however - derived from his colleague's presence, he could not miss this opportunity to becalm his inner demons.

Arriving at the entrance to Lupin's rooms, Severus had calmed down as much as possible. He took a deep breath and knocked.

"Lupin? Are you at home? It's me. Snape."


	5. More Than Friends

**Chapter 05 – More Than Friends**

Remus was sitting in his wing-chair by the fireside, a glass of wine in his hand. It was already a quarter past eight, and Snape had not shown up yet, nor sent a note to call off their appointment off. To a certain degree, Remus was disappointed, but more than that, he was relieved. He highly doubted he would have been able to handle Snape this evening, as he had not been able to get his thoughts off Sirius.

Sirius. Soft melancholy engulfed him as he visualised the man he had known so long ago. Not the haggard, careworn convict of the last years, but the tall, sanguine, breathtaking Sirius of their youth. Sirius, whose jet-black hair would hum in light; Sirius, whose eyes would always sparkle with vitality; Sirius, whose rascally smile would never fail in its effect on Remus, convincing him against his better judgement to take part in any kind of mischief Sirius or James had figured out.

Sometimes things had gone too far, though.

_'Especially when he considered it a good idea to make Snape follow us and almost get killed.'_

He brushed the thought aside. He did not want to think of Snape right now, not in connection with Sirius. He could not allow anything to tarnish the memory of his friend, not now. Irrational as it was – for of course he knew Sirius had not been all noble – Remus sometimes felt the need to draw this picture of him in his mind.

He had been so afraid to go to school, for he knew that most people feared and hated werewolves and he would have a very hard time if anyone except for the teachers ever found out about him. So he had been extremely shy and careful in his behaviour towards his fellow students, always on his guard in order not to arise suspicion.

It had been great to live among so many children, though, since he had never known anyone of his age. His family had tried to protect him, he knew, but the price he had had to pay was loneliness, even though his parents and grandfather had always shown him how much they loved him.

Loneliness had been his faithful companion – until he had become friends with James, Sirius and Peter. Although Remus had needed some time to open up, the other boys' carefree and companionable attitude had soon shown its effect on him, and it had not taken long since they had become an inseparable quartet, causing as much trouble as they could without getting expelled.

The four of them had been friends, but with Sirius… with Sirius it had been… special…

* * *

"Remus?" the second-year Gryffindor heard a familiar voice whisper. "Remus, what's wrong with you?"

The boy wanted to answer, but instead of the intended "Everything's fine, don't worry," even more pitiful sobs escaped his throat.

"Remus…" He felt someone sit down next to him on his bed, then felt a small hand resting on his back. The other boy waited silently until Remus could stop crying, and when he finally sat up and turned round he saw that it was Sirius, who was watching him closely.

"Remus, are you okay, can I help you?"

"No…" Remus whispered, hanging his head. "No, it's nothing…" He felt so stupid, having been caught in crying his eyes out over something which was not even true. "It's just…you know," he paused for a moment, "…sometimes I feel so… so lonely." There. It was out.

"Lonely…" Sirius repeated thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I know, it's stupid, because we've been friends for a year now, and… and it's not that I don't like being with you guys, you know…" Remus sputtered, wincing at the thought that he just had told one of his friends he felt lonely… even with them being around. That was not how a good friend was supposed to feel, after all. "So in fact I'm not lonely, because I've got you three… but anyway, sometimes it's just like… oh it's silly, isn't it…"

"Just stop it," Sirius interrupted. Remus fell quiet immediately. What would Sirius think of him now?

"I… I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No need for that."

Remus' head snapped up to face his friend.

"You've never been much around children, have you?" Sirius asked softly.

Remus shook his head no.

"It's really great to have friends," Sirius continued, "But it's not enough. I know this, because I've always had friends… and sometimes I feel… lonely, too."

"Even now, with James and Peter and all the other Gryffindors around?" Remus asked, eyes wide with disbelief. He had always thought this was something only he would feel… something coming along with his… differentness. Something wrong, something bad even.

"Yes," the other boy replied. "I like them a lot, but still… I'm missing something. You see, when I was seven, I had a friend, Michael. We were… more than just friends. I would tell him everything, and he would tell me everything in return. And we… we would _understand_ each other. It was… special. And it was just between the two of us." He stopped, and Remus was not sure, but the thought he had heard a muffled sob from the other boy's direction.

Remus noticed that his friend was shivering with cold and lifted the blanket. Sirius crawled under it and lay down next to him.

"When I was nine, he… he died. I don't know what disease he had but… it killed him quickly." Remus had to listen carefully, for Sirius's whisper was barely audible. "I… I miss him," Sirius continued. "I miss someone… someone who'll listen to me… someone who just understands… someone I can feel belongs to me…"

This time it was Remus' turn to wait until the other boy had calmed down. While he was waiting, holding Sirius's hand, which he had seized by the time his friend had begun crying, his mind raced. _'It was special… Someone who just understands, someone I can feel belongs to me…'_ That was exactly what he longed for, he realised. And it was good to know he was not the only one.

For some time they just lay there in silence, hands still intertwined. Finally, Remus asked "Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"I think… what you said… it's how I feel, too. I want… someone special."

Again, silence engulfed the boys.

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're here, you know."

"I… um… thanks…" Remus did not know what to say. No one, except his parents, had ever told him something like this. "It's great to know you, too."

"Don't you think we could be, you know, special to one another?"

Remus's breath caught. Sirius wanted _him_? He really wanted _him_ to be special to him, to be the one he could confide in, the one who belonged to him? He could not believe it.

"But what about James? I always thought the two of you were best friends," he answered. Surely Sirius simply had not thought the whole thing through, but now he had mentioned it, he would realise James to be the better choice.

"Yeah, we are, but… it's different." Sirius answered. "I don't think he needs… this. He's always happy, it seems. And I… I'm not. And I don't think he understands…" the other boy trailed off, but he did not have to go on.

Remus turned round to look into his friend's eyes. "I do," he whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Do you really want me?"

"Yeah, really," Sirius answered, smiling.

"Oh." It was still difficult to believe.

"So what? Deal?"

"I… yes, deal." Remus felt as if someone had lit a fire inside his chest. Not only did he have friends, no, now he had someone who was more than a friend. Someone special.

"Remus… can I… can I stay? I don't want to sleep alone tonight," he heard Sirius ask tentatively.

"Sure," Remus replied, still stunned. "I don't want to be alone, either."

"Thanks."

Remus felt the other boy shifting in bed as he tried to find a comfortable position. He closed his eyes. It felt good to have his friend so close, to know someone was here with him.

"Good night, Sirius," he whispered.

"G'night, Remus," came the answer.

And soon both boys were fast asleep, unconsciously snuggling against each other, a smile playing on their lips.

From this night on it _had_ been special, Remus thought, raising his glass to take a sip of wine.

They still had lots of fun with James and Peter, and the Marauders still made an inseparable quartet, but what developed between the two of them was stronger, and it was different. When one of them would be sad, the other one would know without being told. Sometimes, one of them would crawl into the other's bed, because he felt lonely at night, and sometimes one of them would cry without a reason, and the other one would understand.

There was one thing he had never been able to tell, though, and he had often felt it was unfair towards Sirius not to be entirely truthful. But he could not bring himself to reveal his dirty secret, for that was what he had thought it to be. And he had been afraid, because if he ever found out, certainly Sirius would not want to be friends with a beast like him anymore.

_'How wrong I was…'_ Remus thought with a smile.

Sirius, of course, had been the one who found out about him, and instead of turning from him he had come up with the idea the three of them should become animagi to keep him company while he was a wolf.

"What else are friends there for?" he had asked, a bright smile spreading across his face, and James and Peter had nodded, "Yeah, he's right."

It had been the happiest day in Remus's life. They were real friends, who would not turn from him because he was different. No, they really wanted to help him.

Later, when he and Sirius were lying in his bed, Remus whispered "Sirius? Does… I mean, it doesn't change anything, does it? Between the two of us?"

He felt the other boy turn round and knew without opening his eyes that Sirius was looking at him.

"Don't be stupid," his friend answered. "Why should it change anything?"

"It's just because… I wasn't honest with you... I didn't tell you." He opened his eyes and looked at Sirius's dark form next to him. "I was afraid…" he murmured ashamedly. "I didn't want you to know, because I was afraid you wouldn't want to be friends if you knew. I'm an idiot…"

Still speaking, Remus suddenly felt arms wrapping around him. "It's all right," he heard Sirius say. "Have you forgotten we're more than friends? You're not different to me now. You're still _my_ Remus… you still belong to me."

"But how can you… I mean… I wasn't honest with you, and I thought you wouldn't like me anymore… it makes it look like I have a low opinion of you… and you just say it's all right…" Remus could not believe he was forgiven that easily.

"Shush, stupid boy," Sirius whispered, still hugging him tightly. "You needn't explain, and you needn't apologise… I understand."

Their friendship had become even deeper from that point on… and then, one night at the end of their sixth year, it had become so much more than Remus had ever dared to hope for.

The man in the wing-chair put his glass aside and slowly brought one hand up to his cheek. His eyes were closed, and there was a soft glow of red on his cheeks. Suddenly he almost looked young, despite the greying hair and the tired face which spoke of silent sorrow. As long as he lived he would never forget that first night.

* * *

"G'night, Sirius," Remus murmured, snuggling into his friend's sheets. When he had been sure the other boys were asleep, he had gotten up and scurried towards Sirius's bed. His friend had still been awake and without a word had lifted the blanket, smiling at him warmly. Sometimes Remus felt ashamed that he still needed someone to sleep with him at certain nights, but Sirius did never give him the feeling of being unwanted or babyish. Most of all because sometimes Sirius needed the same.

"Good night, Remus," he heard him answer, and then, all of a sudden, he felt a soft kiss being brushed on his left cheek. His eyes sprung open, and he saw the form of his friend bending over him.

For some moments, none of the two spoke, but finally Sirius broke the silence.

"Do you remember that night in our second year?" he asked.

Remus nodded. Of course he did, but what did it have to do with this?

"We promised we would be special to one another, we would belong to one another…"

Yes, and so they did, didn't they? What was Sirius getting at? Remus was confused. Then a suggestion occurred to him. Maybe… maybe Sirius meant… but no, it could not be what he hoped for. It would be asking too much.

"It's only that…" his friend hesitated. "Promise you won't laugh at me!"

"I promise." Remus was even more confused. Why should he laugh at Sirius? Did he not know him better than that?

"Well, you see… I want it to be… more. More than friends… even more than special friends."

Remus was stunned. He must have misheard.

"Remus? I… damn, I'm sounding stupid…" Sirius trailed off, then began again. "I think, you know, I think I don't like girls but guys, and I think… I think I fancy… you," he sputtered. "No, that's wrong…"

Remus was totally confused by now. First, Sirius said he wanted them to be more than friends and that he fancied him, and now…

"I don't fancy you… I… I love you," Sirius whispered.

Remus's head went totally blank. Only Sirius's words were echoing through his mind over and over again. _'I love you.'_

He must be dreaming, yes, there was no other explanation. Only in a dream would what he had secretly longed for for almost a year come true.

"Remus?" he heard Sirius ask in a worried voice. "Remus, I… I can understand if you don't want to stay here now…"

"No…" he finally whispered. "No… I want to stay. But tell me this isn't a dream… because if it's a dream I want to know, so I won't be disappointed when I awake and it's not true."

"It's not a dream. At least I thought so until now… but… but now I'm not sure anymore…" He heard Sirius take a deep breath. "Does this mean… do you like me, too?"

"Yes," Remus answered, taking hold of the other boy's hand. "Or no… I… I love you, too. I've loved you for almost a year…"

Their first kiss had been shy and awkward, but it had not mattered. The only thing that mattered was that they belonged together, and it made every touch, every kiss, so wonderful, so precious. Before they finally had fallen asleep, Remus resting in Sirius's arms, they had promised each other to never let the other down, no matter what would happen in the future.

"We'll always be friends, right?" Sirius had asked.

"Yes," Remus had whispered, repeating the words his friend had used four years ago. "More than friends. I'll tell you everything, and you'll tell me everything in return. And we'll understand. It will be special."

* * *

Remus slowly lowered his hand. The warmth was gone, and gone was the red glow on his cheeks. "I miss you… miss you so very much…" he whispered, melancholy giving way to the usual black despair at the knowledge that he had forever lost his lover.

When it had seemed that Sirius had betrayed them all, Remus had not thought there could be anything worse. He could not imagine there could be a pain even more cruel than the knowledge of his love being a traitor, a Death Eater, responsible for his own best friend's death. But he had been wrong.

* * *

"Sirius…" Remus said, not knowing how to begin this conversation, not knowing how to say what could not longer stay unspoken.

Tentatively, he made some steps towards the chair his friend was sitting in. Arriving at his side, Remus stopped, looking down on Sirius, who had not answered, nor moved at all.

"Sirius… we need to talk." That was quite true. They had not talked once since Sirius had arrived at Grimmauld Place, and that had been one week ago. One long, endless week, in which Sirius seemed to do everything to avoid him.

Sirius looked up at him but still did not say a single word. Remus's heart clutched with pain at the sight he was presented with. He had seen his friend that way at the end of his year as teacher at Hogwarts, but it had been far too short a time to get used to his new appearance. And he did not seem to have recovered much since then. Still he was haggard and pale, still his hair was hanging down in untidy streaks, and his eyes… his eyes were burning with the same intensity as the fire he had been staring into, and it was not the vitality that had shone from them in the past but something else, something which scared Remus more than he wanted to admit.

"It's not easy, for any of us", he continued, struggling to find the right words. "But I think we… we need to clarify the… situation. You know, I…" it was so very hard to go on, so hard to let things come to life again that he had buried years ago. "I still… still love you…" he finally brought out.

Sirius merely kept staring at him.

A minute went by. And another one. Every breath was too hard, every heartbeat too painful.

"I… can't."

A whisper, two small words, barely audible, almost going under in the crackle of the fire… but strong enough to make Remus feel every hope which had reluctantly built up during the last months wither and fade away.

"Why…?"

Sirius must have heard the loss and the pain in his voice, must have noticed how much he had hurt his friend, for he sunk his head, staring into the fire once more.

"You can't imagine how it is… how it was… to be there, with them… to feel how everything is taken from you…" he murmured. "Every hope, every small light beam that is shining into your soul… every love…"

Suddenly he looked up at Remus, his eyes full of unshed tears. "You know, it wasn't only my Animagus form and the thought of Harry that kept me sane… it was you, too. I knew… I knew if I was ever free again, you would be there… you'd forgive me for suspecting you... you would believe me… and be there for me…" he paused to gather himself. "And now… now I'm free, and we're here… and I should be happy. It's just that… I can't. I can't do it."

Remus knelt down beside the chair. "What? What can't you do?" he asked softly, trying not to burst into tears himself at seeing the man he loved suffer like this.

"I… I can't… love," Sirius whispered. "I mean, I do love Harry, because I'm his godfather, and he's James's son… and he's a great boy. And I do… I do love you, in a way. I love you for everything we have been to each other, for everything we shared… and because you believe me and you're here, with me… But… there's nothing more. There's nothing I could give you… I… oh, I can't explain it…" he trailed off, breathing shallowly and obviously painfully.

"Shhh… don't," Remus tried to soothe, taking hold of his friend's arm. "You don't have to explain."

"Yes, I have to!" Sirius insisted. "I want you to know. I… I want you to understand it's not your fault." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry… but… there's nothing left… they took it all from me, everything they could get. The longer it took the more difficult was it to hold on to the positive things… and bit by bit I lost them… almost all of them. Finally, there was only Harry, and you… my most precious memories. But… I didn't have the strength to protect them, I couldn't save… my feelings, not as they had been. I just couldn't hold on to them… and when I escaped… I don't know if you can understand it… but I try, you must believe me… I _want_ to love you… I really try, but I can't… I'm feeling so crumpled inside, so… dead…as if there wasn't left enough of me to really live. I'm just not strong enough to… to love you. Not the way you deserve it. I… I'm not sure if I'll be able to love ever again…" his voice died away, just slowly enough to let Remus hear the last words "…or to feel alive for a single second…"

The next thing Remus could remember was that he was sitting on the carpet in front of the fire, cradling his crying friend in his arms, murmuring soft nonsense into his ear and rubbing his back soothingly, while his own hot tears ran down his cheeks unnoticed.

After a while Sirius had calmed down, but he did not pull back, and Remus did not let go of him either.

"Can… can we still be friends?" Sirius finally whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he looked up into hazel eyes.

"Yes," Remus answered, brushing aside the pain that was surging up again. "Of course we can. Don't you remember? We promised we would never let each other down, no matter what would happen."

"Yes… I remember…"

"So you see, we will be friends. More than friends. I'll tell you everything, and you'll tell me everything in return. And we'll understand. It will be special." He managed to speak in a soothing tone, repeating the old words of their promise which had become an evocation of the past, promising something he knew would never be the same again.

But it did not fail in its effect on Sirius, who closed his eyes and again rested his head against Remus' chest. They did not move for a long time, and when they finally let go of each other, Remus smiled and for the first time put on the mask he needed to wear in order to be able to care for his friend, as he had promised he would do.

* * *

Some tears crept down Remus's cheeks. Again, he had thought there could be nothing worse. Nothing could happen that would hurt more than living with the man he loved and not being allowed to love him in order not to break him more than he already was. He knew it would have destroyed Sirius if he had let him see how much he was suffering from the situation. So he had pretended to resign himself to it, had been there whenever his friend had needed him and had felt himself die slowly from within, carefully hiding every sign of his decay from the one he loved.

_'I was wrong again…'_ he thought with a bitter smile. Had anyone told him that he would wish back this time he would have declared him mad. _'But now… I wouldn't mind if he didn't love me, wouldn't mind if he even didn't like me. If only he were alive…_

Suddenly, a knocking on the door startled Remus from his thoughts.

"Lupin? Are you at home? It's me. Snape."


	6. A Bad Turn

**Chapter 06 - A Bad Turn**

Snape? A quick look on his watch told Remus that it was already 8:55 p.m. He had completely lost track of time. Remus knew he must not lose himself to memory; it was a dangerous path to take. Sometimes, however, he needed it. Needed to recall the happiness he had felt, needed to feel the pain as well, just to ensure himself he was still alive.

_'Could he not have stayed away? Just tonight… I thought he wouldn't come anymore, I mean… he's almost an hour late.'_

He could pretend not to be at home. Just keep silent and wait until his colleague would be gone. He was not supposed to sit here and wait for Snape all evening.

_'But you promised you would be there for him. And now he's here, and he wants to spend time with you. It would be unfair,'_ his conscience protested, and Remus knew it to be right. His sense of duty was far too large to allow him to just let Snape leave empty-handed.

"Lupin?" Snape's impatient voice insisted.

Remus dried his face and tried to put on a relaxed expression. "Yes, I'm here. Come in, please."  
The portrait swung open, and Snape entered the room. "I didn't mean to be late," he stated instead of a greeting. "I have been… delayed."

"Never mind," Remus replied. "Next time, however, please send a note."

* * *

Severus felt himself go stiff.

_'Yes, of course, next time I'll send a note: **Excuse my being late, I'm just having a blackout, but it will be over in about 20 minutes, so please wait for me.** Great idea.'_

Of course he did not say such a thing but merely grunted ungraciously, sitting down in the wing chair he had come to think of as 'his'. The chessboard was standing on the table, black figures on his side of the board, white ones on Lupin's.

"Let's get started," he said, gesturing the other man to begin. His colleague nodded and told his first pawn where to move.

* * *

_'He's looking even worse than usual,'_ Remus thought, watching Snape, who seemed to be completely absorbed in pondering the next draw. There were lines edged in his face Remus did not remember seeing in the morning. His eyes were somewhat red and swollen, too, although he had tried to hide it with a Glamour Charm.

_'Has he been crying?'_ Remus wondered. And why did he not even seem to have the concentration to maintain a Glamour Charm? Snape was a powerful wizard, and something really grave must have happened to upset him. Otherwise he would never be that distracted.

_'Certainly it's not because of the Quidditch game.'_ That would be far too ridiculous an explanation. Remus suppressed the urge to just ask Snape if there was anything he could do for him - of course that was not feasible at all.

_'There must be something that burdens him, some kind of psychological strain. Does it have to do with his father, I wonder? Considering what he said when he was dreaming… Or is there something else as well? Albus said he was afraid that being a spy would ask too much of him. And why doesn't he want to confide in Albus? I always thought Snape trusted him, if he trusted no one else.'_

Remus broke free of these musings, knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment. When he again focused on his colleague, he noticed with some surprise that he still had not made his draw but was staring fixedly into space.

What really shocked him, though, was the look in the Potions Master's eyes. Although he could not figure out what it reminded him of, he knew he had seen something like this before. The dark eyes seemed empty and callous, but at the same time there was a fire deep down inside, flickering with an intensity that almost scared him. And suddenly he knew why this was so familiar a sight.

_'Sirius!'_

Remus gasped for breath when he realised it to be the same expression he had so often seen in his friend's eyes after his escape.

_'But… what on earth…'_ Remus was aghast at the implications. Sirius had been a broken man after twelve years in Azkaban, and he doubted there to be many other things similar horrible, which would have such an effect on a man.

"Er… Snape?"

The other man winced at the sound of his voice and blinked, as if awaking from a dream.

"I was wondering if there was anything I could… do for you?" Remus could no longer abstain from offering his help. He had to at least try.

"No, everything is perfectly in order," Snape responded harshly, and within seconds his face became an icy mask.

"Well, you looked… a bit vacant."

"As I said before," Snape replied in a dangerously rising voice, "there is no reason to worry. And even if there were, you may be sure I would not tell you, of all people."

This silenced Remus immediately. He swallowed every answer that occurred to him, although it was hard to ignore this slap in the face. Instead, he turned back to the chessboard.

"It's still your turn."

* * *

Severus stared at the chessboard, unable to figure out any intelligent draw.

_'I was wondering if there was anything I could do for you?'_ The words echoed through his mind, causing him to feel alarmed. When he secretly checked on his Glamour Charm, he noticed that it was almost gone. He silently cursed himself. After using this charm for years now it should have become as natural as breathing - so how could he have been that careless? And of course the werewolf had nothing better to do than to notice his condition. Snooper. He would do better in attending his own affairs.

And yet… Severus could not help feeling… touched by Lupin's care - even though it was, of course, not really targeted at _him_. Lupin would try to help anyone he knew was in trouble. Bloody werewolf idealist.

Distracted by these musings and his general bad shape, Severus lost the game pathetically in less than an hour, which only added to his sulkiness. Hearing Lupin's "Checkmate!" he felt close to exploding. The frustration over the Quidditch game, having disgraced himself in chess, the previous events and his anger at himself for not being able to pull himself together were searching for a - however minimal - chance to assert themselves.

* * *

"Checkmate!" Snape's king fell down clumsily, and his crown rolled, rattling, over the chessboard. Remus had won, but somehow he could not enjoy his victory as he usually would. Snape had played light-years below his standard, making disastrous mistakes Remus would expect of a beginner, not of a skilful tactician like his opponent.

Secretly watching his colleague, Remus noticed that the Glamour charm was almost completely worn off. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he looked as if he had not slept for weeks. Remus had never seen Snape in so pitiable a condition. Despite Snape's scathing remark a little while ago, he could not prevent himself from again trying to find out what might have happened to put Snape in such a state.

"Can I ask you something?" he tried, carefully choosing a neutral tone.

"What?" came the sharp reply.

"I… couldn't help noticing that you seem rather… troubled. And I was wondering, well… certainly Slytherin's defeat in Quidditch can't be the reason, nor our game. I thought maybe -"

"Oh, thank you _very much_ for rubbing it in!" Snape interrupted him angrily.

Remus was perplexed. "Er… sorry, but… I don't' know what you mean."

"Of course not. Butter would not melt in your mouth. That's what you Gryffindors are truly skilled in."

Remus felt a prick of anger. _'You Gryffindors'_. Again. Did he never get enough of cultivating this ridiculous animosity? And _'rub it in'_ - Snape could not be serious. They were grown men. Did he really think Remus needed to derive self-affirmation from humiliating him?

"I don't think my house affiliation has to do anything with this. And I didn't intend to 'rub in' anything."

"You do not say. You did not intend to. Of course not. No one ever does, do they? At least not any of you oh so honourable Gryffindors!"

"Snape, what in the name of Merlin has come over you? Don't you think this is somewhat childish?" Remus was having difficulty keeping his temper by now. Snape's behaviour was just absurd.

"Childish? I think it's childish to enjoy pinpointing my and my house's deficits. But then, you and your friends did always trifle with other people's feelings, even with their lives."

"Would you please stop it!" This was going too far. Remus would not listen to any absurd accusations of him or his friends. Especially not his friends.

"Stop it?" Snape's voice was considrbly louder by now. He had jumped up and was standing beside his chair, fists clenched. "I do not think I'm going to stop it. Did you ever stop it? Did Potter ever stop, or Black?"

"Would you leave Sirius out of this!" It took all his will power not to yell at the other man. Not Sirius. Not now. He could not bear it.

"Why should I? Wasn't it him who thought it to be simply wonderful fun to get me almost killed? Oh, I'm sure you would like to forget about it. Forget everything that could besmirch his halo. Let me tell you something about your friend: Do you remember third year, when I broke my arm and ribs?"

Yes, Remus remembered. Snape had had to stay in the hospital wing for some time and after that had worn a cast for weeks. Skele-gro had not been developed by then, and Bone-Healing charms were still extremely experimental.

"I told everyone I had fallen down the stairs because Peeves had thrown a helmet at me. But do you want to know what really happened? Some of my own housemates had developed an appetite for teasing me, and worse. They beat me up whenever they got the chance, and it was them who broke my bones. And Black, your precious Black, happened to come in on them while they were kicking and punching me. I was lying on the ground, screaming with pain. And what," Snape laughed acidly, "what do you think Black did? Did he go for help? Did he tell them to stop?"

Remus did not want to listen. He did not want to know. He wanted to yell at Snape, wanted to tell him to shut up and get the hell out of his rooms, but he was unable to speak a single word.

"Of course he did not! Before I lost consciousness I could see him, leaning against the wall, _smiling_! It must have been simply great fun, seeing someone else doing his job so he would not have to soil himself in touching me!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Finally Remus had retrieved his voice. He would not hear another word.

"Oh, I'm sure you do not like what you are hearing. Doesn't cast a good light on Black, does it? Well, I have some news for you: All that glistens is not gold, and certainly Black was no prince in shining armour! But there is no point in telling you so, since the two of you were more than friends, weren't you," Snape spat, every word dripping with venom.

"You have been and always will be blind concerning him, because he was special, right? So very special that on the one hand he could play the dedicated friend and lover and on the other hand watch someone get beaten up, actually smiling at the sight! And why? I once asked him why, I asked him why he hated me so much, and do you know his answer?" Snape was yelling at the top of his voice. "DO YOU KNOW?"

"SHUT UP!" Remus, too, had jumped up. All thoughts of the Potions Master having serious problems and needing help had vaporised into nothingness. The only thing that now existed in his mind was Snape's voice, dripping with scorn in speaking words that meant more to him than anyone could ever measure: _'You were more than friends… he was special.'_

"What do _you_ know about friendship?" Remus snapped, being beside himself with rage. "What the hell gives _you_ the right to judge my friendship, my love? Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have! And no wonder no one wants to mess about with you, considering how you spurn their feelings!"

Time seemed to have almost frozen. Thick silence was pressing down on the creeping seconds, and Remus expected a sudden bolt to shatter the world at any moment - but nothing happened. Snape was standing beside the chair, wearing on his face an expression that was a mixture between anger, hatred… and something else, which he could not figure out in his present state of mind. Then, without another word, the Potions Master turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Remus kept staring in the direction the other man had taken, but he was not aware of his surroundings. Still he could hear Snape's words echoing through his mind. _'You were more than friends… special…'_ and, even louder and more haunting: _'Do you know his answer? Do you know?'_

"Yes," he whispered, although there was no one to hear it. "Yes, I know…"

* * *

_"Why can't you just leave him alone?" Remus demanded, looking down on his boyfriend, who was lolling lazily in bed. _

_"Whom?" Sirius yawned. It was Saturday, and they had decided not to go to the Great Hall for breakfast but rather to spend their time with things more… interesting. The only problem was that Remus could not get his thoughts off the events of the previous day._

_"You know whom I'm talking about," Remus replied, slightly annoyed. "Snape. Why do you always have to tease him? Can't you just let him be?"_

_"Oh, come on, not now," Sirius complained, looping his arm around Remus's waist. "I know something much more interesting to talk about," he murmured. Remus resisted his lover's attempt to pull him down on the sheets._

_"No, Sirius, please!" Locking eyes with the other boy, he tried to add weight to his words. "I want to talk about this now. I… I need to understand, can't you see?"_

_Sirius seemed to have noticed that he was serious, for he pulled his arm back and sat up, too._

_"Look," Remus went on, "was it really necessary to cast this Transparency Charm on him?"_

_"I couldn't know the charm would work only on his clothes!" Sirius defended himself. "You know, I thought it would be fun when Snivellus suddenly found himself transparent – he always tries to appear so _opaque_!" _

_Remus scowled at his friend, who was obviously stifling his laughter by now. '_Really great fun,_' he thought, inwardly still squirming with embarrassment as he beheld the images of the previous evening._

_Sirius had been mysterious the whole day, not giving his secret away to his lover but promising him it would be 'killingly funny'._

'And I'm sure killing is exactly what Snape felt like.'

_Sirius had convinced his friends to go to dinner very early, and instead of sitting down at the Gryffindor table he had hidden behind one of the big pillars beside the entrance, gesturing his friends to sit down and wait for what would happen. Gradually the other students had come in, separately or in small groups. The tables had almost been full when, as one of the last, Severus Snape had walked through the door. With a growing sense of uneasiness Remus had seen Sirius briefly wave at them, a mischievous smile on his lips, then his boyfriend had quickly pointed his wand at his unsuspecting fellow student. _

_By the time Snape had arrived at his table, every conversation in the Great Hall had stopped. It had taken the Slytherin some moments to realise that all eyes were directed at him, and when he had noticed what had happened, Remus watched speechless horror spread across his face. For what seemed to be ages Snape had been standing there motionless, his skinny, sallow, naked body perfectly visible through his transparent clothes. The teachers, too, had been paralysed with shock, and before any of them had been able to react in some way or other, Snape had turned round and run out of the room, followed by most of his fellow students' laughter, which finally had broken out._

_Remus, however, had not been able to share their amusement. It seemed the sight he had been presented with had been very different from what the others had seen. Snape had looked so humiliated, so hurt…_

_"Honestly, Sirius," he scolded now, "it's not funny at all. Have you never thought about how degraded he must have felt? Imagine someone had done this to you!"_

_Sirius looked mildly amused at his boyfriend's tirade. "Well, if someone had done it to me, I would have had no reason to be ashamed. At least I don't look like a naked mole rat," he replied, stretching his muscular torso as if to prove his statement. _

_"Oh Merlin!" Remus groaned with frustration. "Just tell me why! I mean… you don't have to like him - there are lots of people I don't like, and I don't feel like taunting them all the time, either. So why do you hate him that much?"_

_"I don't hate him," Sirius answered in a careless voice. "It's just the fact that he exists. It annoys me."_

_Remus had not been able to think of any answer to this. James had said something similar one day, he remembered, and he simply could not understand how his friends could be capable of such viciousness - or was it just thoughtlessness?_

_"So, could we now _please_ speak of something more interesting?" Sirius inquired. "I have a really awesome idea…" and with these words he pulled his now unresisting – because utterly surprised - lover down on the sheets and, bending his head down between Remus's legs, made him soon forget about everything else._

* * *

Suddenly, Remus felt all shaky and weak, and he just managed to stumble over to his chair before his legs gave in and he sat down in it heavily.

"It's just the fact that he exists…" he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly as he realised that the main reason why he had lost his temper was not that Snape had insulted him or even Sirius, but the fact that he had known Snape to be right.

He had not wanted to think about it, had not wanted to face the truth and admit that Sirius, his Sirius, who had been so loyal to his friends and to him, Remus, so tender and understanding that it had left nothing to be desired, had indeed had so different and dark a strain. This side of his lover he had never been able to understand, and so he had - after several useless attempts - preferred to overlook it, as he had been far too afraid of losing Sirius if he insisted upon speaking about the subject.

And now Snape had come and within a few minutes had shattered the misty-eyed image Remus had built up of Sirius. Without a warning he had thrown him into reality - a reality he had deliberately been blind to in order to cope with his grief, and, as he realised, even more horrified, with his guilt. For in ignoring Sirius's tantalising behaviour towards Snape he, Remus, had become as guilty as his friends.

The fire had died down, and darkness filled the room. Remus Lupin buried his head in his hands and cried.

* * *

Severus did not know where he was going. The only thing he knew was that he could not stay in Lupin's presence for another single second.

_'Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have!'_

He had been told this before, and it had struck him deeply to hear these words from Lupin, who appeared to be so calm, so friendly a man.

_'No wonder he was angry with you! Were you crazy? Badmouthing Black, whom you know he loved, in such a way! What has come over you? Congratulations, Severus, again you have proven your great worth!'_

His fist hit the stone wall with untamed force, and mercifully the pain silenced the voice in his head. When the world had come back to focus, Severus carefully tried to move his fingers, but pain instantly twitched like fire through them. It seemed he had at least broken two of them, not to mention the bleeding scrapes. He did not really care much, and he most certainly would not visit he infirmary because of this - he could heal it later with the help of a potion.

_'Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have!'_

This time it was not Lupin's voice, trembling with anger and pain, no, the words Severus meant to hear in his mind were spoken in a sneering tone, dripping with smugness and amusement at his shocked reaction. He would never be able to forget the expression of cruel joy on the other man's face, the man who so many years ago had shattered his fragile hope for something which had always seemed too precious to be his some day. Yet, he had hoped, and he had paid for it.

"Friendship!" He spat the word, putting as much spite in his voice as he was able to raise. There was no such thing. There were only stupid romanticists who believed in that illusion, and he would do better in not becoming one of them again. It was less painful to deny the existence of something than having to admit that he would never be a part of it.

And even if something like friendship existed, he certainly would never share it with Lupin, of all people. First of all, because he did not even like him. He loathed Lupin, Merlin, the man was a werewolf!

_'That didn't keep you from spending time with him and obtaining by fraud what you needed from him.'_ And, moreover, it was a lie.

Severus leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the stone, which felt pleasantly cool against his hot skin. No, he no longer hated or despised Lupin. However this change of mind might have happened, he had almost felt the wish to… befriend him.

Had he not learned his lesson? Why had he again allowed himself to nourish this ridiculous hope, minuscule as it had been, that somehow he at least might achieve a small piece of what he had almost forgotten having longed for in the past? But there was no point in musing about it. It was something which would never happen. Not after treating Lupin like that. Not after tarnishing the man's remembrance of his dead lover.

Love. Another illusion. It was worth nothing. Less than nothing, for nothingness was something you could live with. Nothingness was neither negative nor positive. How often had he prayed for nothingness, callousness, but he had been denied it.

Like today.

* * *

_"Severus, how _very_ nice to meet you." Although the man's face was hidden, he knew him from his silky voice, his shimmering hair, his graceful movements. He had known him for years, and he would never forget. He did not answer, but the other one did not mind. _

_"You know how much I enjoy your presence every time, don't you," the man purred, slowly raising one hand. Severus did not move when it lightly rested on his arm, although to him it seemed to weigh tons and the touch was burning like fire, even through his thick, black robes, the feeling spreading all across his body, making him wish to drop dead that very instant just to be delivered from this._

_"I… have to go. They are waiting for me," he finally ground out._

_"Of course," was the reply, but still the hand did not pull back. "I know a place," the man whispered, his grip abruptly becoming tight and painful. "What do you think, isn't that a grand idea? Just like the good old times." He chuckled, and Severus could see his eyes flicker with amusement before at last he released his arm and went away._

* * *

Abruptly, Severus snapped back into reality, but in his mind, the other one had come with him.

"No, leave me alone…" The words came out as a hoarse whisper.

But of course he would not leave Severus. He never did. And surely not tonight. Severus restarted meandering the corridors, as if trying to physically leave behind what was irrevocably stored in his memory. He would linger in his thoughts, his dreams, and there was no way to escape it.

Suddenly, Severus knew his destination. He needed to sleep, just tonight. Without dreams, without memories. Just sleep. One night.

When he arrived at the Gargoyle, his whirling brain refused for some moments to remember the password.

"Treacle Brittle!" Finally it came back to him, and the Gargoyle moved sideways, revealing the staircase that led to the headmaster's office.


	7. Revelations

**Chapter 07 - Revelations**

Carefully, Albus put the artefact he was holding on the shelf behind his desk. He barred his hands from shaking so he would not spill one drop of the liquid in it, while at the same time he would have liked nothing better than to dash it to pieces. When he turned round to again sit down in his chair, he heard a knocking on the door.

"Yes, please, come in."

The headmaster sighed at the sight he was presented with when his visitor entered the room. It was Remus, as he should have foreseen, and he was looking terrible.

"Please, sit down," Albus invited, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. Remus did as he was told without speaking a word, and he did not look at the headmaster but cast his eyes downward on his hands, which were lying limply in his lap. The old wizard settled down in his own chair, waiting patiently until the other man would speak, although he had no doubt concerning the content of the words he would hear.

"I can't do this any longer." Finally Remus spoke, in a low and tired voice, not averting his eyes from his hands.

"What is it that you cannot do?" the headmaster asked, although he perfectly knew what the younger man meant.

Remus looked up to face him, and while it was no surprise to him, yet Albus was struck by the obvious pain that was flickering in his eyes.

"Snape. Please look for someone else. I… won't meet him again."

For a short moment Albus closed his eyes. The question why things could never work out fine was a futile one. He could not blame Remus, considering the previous events, and yet… he did not want this to end in such a way. Over the last weeks he had watched the developments between the two men with ascending hope. He was sure the two of them could be beneficial to one another, and he knew they both badly needed someone to confide in. Someone they could talk to, someone who would understand. At first thought, it seemed to be rather absurd to believe that Severus, of all people, should match these requirements, but Albus knew his Potions Master better than that. Sometimes he seemed to know him better than Severus knew himself.

_'So, what can I do?'_

He knew for sure that there was no way to convince Severus to do anything that would bear the slightest danger of tearing down the walls which he had built up around himself so long ago. The events of this evening had only confirmed this knowledge. But Remus… it was different with him. Maybe he should… An idea occurred to him which he at first rejected instantly. He could not betray Severus's trust. And beside that… observing the exhausted, depressed-looking Remus, who now had sunk his head into his hands, he had the feeling it would be unfair to ask from him anything that would burden him even more. But on the other hand…

Albus made a decision. He got up and went to the shelf, then took what he had placed there before and carefully carried it back, putting it down on the desk in front of his chair.

"Remus?" he asked softly.

The other man looked up.

"Remus, I have been informed of what has happened tonight, and I perfectly understand your decision."

* * *

Remus sighed with relief, brushing aside the question of how Albus could know. He somehow always knew. Although Remus was firm in his decision, he had been afraid to disappoint the old wizard's confidence. He really would have liked to help him and, even more, Snape in this matter, but he could not face the things that came along with it. He knew it was cowardly and weak of him, and even before himself he was ashamed of it, but he simply was not ready to face the truth. He wanted to forget about tonight as soon as possible.

_'Do you know his answer?'_ No. He did not want to know. And having to deal with Snape would never let him forget.

* * *

"As I said," the headmaster repeated, "I understand. But before you go, I would like to ask a last favour of you." He could see the younger man's eyes darken slightly before he answered, and he could not blame him for it.

"What is it?"

"I… would like to show you something. I always hoped I would never have to do this… but now it seems there is no other way out." At these words he could see puzzlement spread across Remus's face. "Please, come here," he beckoned his colleague to sit down in his own chair, and when the younger wizard had done so, pointed at the artefact in front of him.

"A Pensieve?"

"It is mine. But tonight I had lent it to Severus, as I do from time to time. He left about half an hour before you came. He was very… agitated."

'Agitated' was a downright understatement for the Potion Master's condition when he had rushed into his office. Albus had asked no questions, for he knew he would get no answer, and he also knew he would see everything he needed to know. It was their agreement: Severus did not have to talk, but he would let him see everything. It was not enough, but it was the biggest concession the younger man was capable of.

"By the way, this is how I learned about your argument tonight," Albus went on.

"Just a minute!" Remus interrupted. "To get you right: You want me to look into Snape's pensieve? What for? Do you think this will change my decision? And besides that - I don't want to intrude in his personal affairs." How would he feel if someone made a sight-seeing tour in his head? Snape had not become such a good Occlumens for no reason. He would be furious if he ever found out.

"I do not ask you to change your mind," Albus replied calmly. "The only thing I ask you is to watch. I do understand your concern considering Severus's privacy, but I would like you to trust me, this once. After that, I will never mention the subject again."

The younger man shot him a suspicious glance, but then he nodded, very much to Albus's relief. He did not exactly know what would come of this, and, moreover, he felt fairly guilty in revealing things of so personal a nature. Severus would most likely never forgive him if he ever found out. But he had to risk it. He felt things had reached a point where extreme measures were the last resort. And if it had the desired effect, if it would help Severus in the end, he, Albus, would accept any consequences for himself.

_'It is for your own good, Severus, I wish you could understand,'_ he thought sadly before he nodded Remus to begin. Slowly the younger man lowered his head until this face touched the surface of the silvery liquid.

* * *

Remus had no idea why Albus wanted him to do this, and he felt more than slightly uneasy to be snooping around in another person's memories without their knowledge, but in the end, he trusted Albus to know what he was doing. There must be a grave reason for him to do this - he was not the type to betray the trust that was bestowed him.

When he plunged his face in Snape's thoughts, the world instantly began spinning, making him feel slightly sick before it came back to focus. Wondering what the old wizard could think to be so important for him to see, Remus stared at the scene that was unfolding before his eyes.

A small black-haired boy, aged about four, was cowering in the corner of a large living room. In the middle of the room Remus saw two figures, the smaller one with the long raven-black hair struggling to break free from the bigger one's grasp. As they turned round he noticed that the small one was a woman. Although her face was screwed with fear and she had a black eye, Remus immediately recognised the similarity with Severus Snape. This woman was his mother, then! And the boy in the corner must be Snape!

"Get out of my way!" Snape's father yelled, as his wife was obviously trying to keep him away from the child. Being beside himself with rage he pushed her away, and she fell, fainting when her head hit the ground.

"Mummy!"

Remus's head snapped back to the boy who was staring at his motionless mother in horror. The man rushed towards his son and grabbed him.

"Don't you ever dare to contradict me again," he roared, violently shaking the frail body.

"I… I'm sorry, D-daddy," the boy whimpered, his eyes blank with fear. "I love you, Daddy!"

The man grunted ungraciously and let go of his son, who fell down to the ground, giving a cry of pain and beginning to sob. Within a second his father was beside him, punching him into the ribs.

"Don't you cry as a baby, you worthless little mutt!" he snarled, eyes flickering with spite, then he turned on his heel and rushed out of the room.

For some endless minutes the boy lay in the corner, obviously not daring to move, trying in vain to stifle his sobs. It made Remus sick to just stand there and watch, but this was the past, and there was nothing he could do as he had to tell himself when the desire to go and comfort the child became almost unbearable.

Mercifully the scene faded, and Remus now found himself standing on a graveyard, watching a coffin being carried towards an empty grave. It was a foggy day, and waft of mist were floating everywhere between the trees and gravestones. When the coffin was let down into the hole, Remus noticed the two figures who were standing beside the grave. He approached them to be able to listen if they spoke and stopped beside Snape, who must be about seven or eight by now. His face was ghastly pale, the eyes red and swollen. Remus could see the muscles twitch under the skin as the boy was struggling for composure. However, when the first scoopful of earth thudded on the coffin, he lost the fight.

"Mum!" he cried out flatly and burst into tears.

Almost faster than Remus could watch it, Snape's father had slapped the boy.

"Do you remember what I told you about crying?" he hissed in a dangerous voice, glaring at Snape from the corners of his eyes.

His son did not look up to him but kept his eyes locked on the grave. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Tell me!"

"A Snape…" he had to pause for a moment to repress a sob, "a Snape does not cry, under no circumstances. Neither in… in public, nor in private. Never. It's… weakness, and a Snape does not have weaknesses. Nothing in the world is worth crying over."

"Exactly. Nothing in the world is worth showing weakness. And this," he nodded towards the grave, "is by no means an exception. So, act accordingly! I do not expect you to ever make me proud of you, but at least you could try not to be a complete disgrace to my name!"

There was a short silence during which the deeply pacific Remus would have wished to thump some human feelings in the man with his bare fists if this had been possible.

"Yes, sir," the boy finally replied. He wiped his tears off, and with growing horror Remus could watch a kind of desperate determination spread across his face as he fought back any hint of emotion, his features slowly becoming a childlike resemblance of his father's cold mien. Only the deep, black eyes were not able to lie yet, pain flickering inside them.

Again the scene changed. Remus was standing in what seemed to be a compartment of a train, which soon re recognised as the Hogwarts Express. Looking around, he noticed a boy sitting on a seat by the window, almost hidden in the shadows. Long, black hair was veiling his face, but Remus knew it must be Snape.

Before he could take a closer look at him, the door opened slowly, and the head of another boy appeared, carefully peering into the room. Tentatively, he entered the compartment, a worried expression spreading across his face as he became aware of its occupant. He was scrawny, with light brown hair, his face decorated with several nasty scratches. It was Remus's younger self, as the older man realised in surprise, and he must be eleven years old, according to his appearance and the fact that he was not with his friends, whom from second year on he had always met at the station before the train's departure.

Remus remembered exactly how he had felt at that day, all of a sudden deprived of the security he had obtained from his family as long as he could remember, exposed to the presence of dozens of strangers who he knew would hate him if they should become aware of what he really was. After the train's departure, he had not dared to enter any of the compartments, had merely thrown uncertain glances into them and, noticing their occupants, had quickly backed off every time. Finally, he had reached the last compartment, knowing he had to sit somewhere. And he had ended up sitting with Severus Snape. Strange - Remus had not remembered this fact until now.

"Hi… er… do you mind me sitting here?" young Remus asked in an uncertain voice.

The other boy examined him for some seconds, then shook his head and directed his gaze back to the window. Remus's younger self dragged in his trunk and closed the door behind him. As the trunk was cramming almost the whole space between the seats, he tried to lift it into the luggage rack, but of course it was far too heavy.

After some vain attempts, Snape suddenly spoke. "Wingardium leviosa!" he said, pointing a wand at the trunk, which instantly began hovering. Under the surprised glance of its owner he directed it into the luggage rack and then shoved his wand back into his robes.

"Um… thanks," Remus's younger self murmured.

The other boy merely looked at him, his glance revealing neither hostility nor friendliness. Eventually, young Remus seemed to take heart, and, putting on a smile, he approached the other boy.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he said. "What's your name?"

For a second the other one hesitated, but then he took the offer. "Severus," he answered, returning a very small, very shy smile. "Severus Snape."

The next minutes Remus spent watching the two boys, who by now were sitting on opposed seats by the window, holding a somewhat hesitant conversation. How could he have forgotten, he asked himself? The first other student he had ever talked to had been Snape! The first friendly gesture he had received in this new and frightening world, a smile which had meant so much to him, had come from no one else than Severus Snape! As small a gesture as it had been, it had given him hope that he might be accepted by the other children; it had had a reassuring effect on him, making him almost forget about his nervousness.

He took a closer look on the young Snape, who was just telling the other boy that he had learned the levitating charm from their charms book, as well as a couple of other charms.

"I know it's not allowed," he admitted. "But our house has magical wards, so I knew I wouldn't be detected. And…" he hesitated for a moment before he went on, "I didn't want to be the worst in class."

He nervously brushed a strand of black hair behind his ear. When he did not wear his mask of cold indifference, Remus noticed, he was looking rather self-conscious. And no wonder he was nervous, Remus thought, considering how his father had for years talked him into believing that he was worth nothing. The boy must have felt as unsure as he himself had in meeting other children. Snape's remark about not wanting to be the worst in class, however, made Remus smirk. The boy had been well advanced even in Dark Curses at the beginning of his first year. But then, of what use should it have been, had Snape told young Remus? He must have known how most people thought about the Dark Arts, and, wishing for acceptance, it was certainly wiser not to reveal something like this.

During his musing, the scene on the train had faded away, and now Remus found himself following a flock of first-years, who had just climbed out of the boats in which they had crossed the lake. The big gate of the castle opened and the children were led into the small room in which Minerva McGonagall explained to them the sorting ceremony. When they had moved into the great Hall – Remus had smiled amusedly at the children's astonished and admiring glances and remarks at the tonight stormy grey ceiling - he looked around, searching for Snape.

After he had watched "Black, Sirius" being sorted into Gryffindor - the hat had barely touched his head before shouting the name of his house - he noticed Snape and his younger self between the other students, standing close together and both looking rather nervously at the chair with the sorting hat.

"What do you reckon, where will you be?" he heard his younger self ask.

"I don't know," Snape replied, his face deadpan. "My father was in Slytherin, and he expects me to be sorted there, too." Barely audible, so that only the older Remus could hear it, he muttered "But I'm sure I'll not. I'll disappoint him again."

Meanwhile, the sorting had proceeded to "Giles, Timothy", and young Remus was becoming more nervous with every name.

_'What if the hat knows what I am? What if it tells everyone in here and says there is no house for beasts like me?'_ Those and other discouraging thoughts had whirled in his mind, Remus remembered, making his heart hammer in his throat wildly.

And then, in the midst of nervousness and uncertainty, two small hands found each other, unnoticed by the surrounding children, providing reassurance and courage to one another. Remus could watch a small smile curl his younger self's lips, and Snape's mien became a little more relaxed. Not looking at each other but keeping their gaze locked at the sorting, the two boys waited, hands intertwined, silently thankful for the other one's presence.

_'How could I just forget about all this?'_ Remus wondered. All he had remembered of his Sorting was the overwhelming excitement and anxiety. But before he had time to think about it more deeply, the Great Hall had was replaced by an empty corridor, in which Remus could hear the sound of approaching steps before he saw a student turn the corner on the right. When the boy came closer, he noticed that it was Snape, who was wearing his right arm in a cast.

_'Do you remember third year, when I broke my arm and ribs?'_ he heard his colleague's voice ask in his head.

_'No, not this please,'_ Remus inwardly begged, knowing it must have something to do with Sirius. Still there was a part of his mind that refused to believe the Potions Master had told the truth about what had happened. He was so absorbed in thought that he only noticed the second boy's presence when he spoke.

"Now, Snivellus, nice accessory that you are wearing," Sirius drawled, smirking at his fellow student. "Or wait… no, no I was wrong. It doesn't become you at all. Makes you look even more like a freak."

Remus could watch the young Slytherin struggle for self-control, but after some moments hate and, moreover, pain spread across his face.

"Why, Black?" he demanded, his voice trembling with repressed emotion. "Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you? There must be a _reason_!"

"Come on, Snivellus. Can you really be that thick?"

"Do not call me… that!"

"Oh, but isn't it true?" Sirius flouted. "Two weeks ago, when you were playing with your little Slytherin friends, the name seemed to fit you so very well. I can't think of a better one. By the way, I really enjoyed the show. Will there be an encore someday? You can bet I don't want to miss it."

"Drop it, Black," Snape ground out between gritted teeth. "Just answer my question!"

"Fine, if it's that important to you," the Gryffindor replied, shrugging. "I don't hate you. That would do you too much undeserved honour. And there's no reason - beside the fact that you're existing. Isn't that enough?" And with these words he stalked away, leaving behind a dumbfounded Snape and an at least equally struck Remus.

_'When you were playing with your little Slytherin friends… I really enjoyed the show…'_

"So it's true… it's really true," Remus whispered desperately. Sudden anger at Albus stirred inside him. Had he not come to him because he did not want to have to deal with this, because he was longing for oblivion? Albus had known, and yet he had made him face this! For a moment he was tempted to just pull his head out of the Pensieve and leave the headmaster's office, but the sight his eyes now were presented with made him forget about his own distress immediately.

He was standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, looking at a scene he had thought of not too long ago this very evening: Sixteen-year-old Severus Snape, appearing naked under his transparent clothes, obviously frozen with shock and embarrassment. When Remus turned to the right, he could watch Sirius, who had come out of hiding, his face an unbearable mask of smugness. And down the Gryffindor table he saw James and his younger self, the former just now bursting out into broad laughter, the latter seeming horrified at the events.

Snape had regained the ability of moving and stormed out of the door, and, different from his younger self, who had – as Remus now had to admit – not had the courage to do what his conscience had told him and follow his humiliated fellow student, Remus hurried through the corridors to keep up with the Slytherin.

Having arrived at his dorm, Snape collapsed on his bed, but immediately he started up again, hectically fiddling around with his clothes to get them off as quickly as possible. When finally he had managed to undress and had put on a pyjama, he sat down on his bed, his knees risen to his chest, arms clasped tightly around his legs. Remus could see that he was frantically trying to blink the tears away which had risen into his eyes.

"A Snape… does… not… cry," the teen murmured hoarsely, beginning to softly rock himself back and forth. "Nothing… in the world… is worth… crying for."

Remus could feel a hot lump of sympathy and fury form in his chest, burning like molten metal. It arouse in him the desire to gather the boy in his arms and tell him that he was allowed to cry, that the humiliation he had had to suffer indeed was worth crying, that he himself was worth it – and that Sirius was an egomaniacal, smug imbecile who was not able to look beyond his own nose. At this moment he did not know what shocked him more – the sight of Snape, who was still rocking back and forth, repeating "A Snape does not cry" again and again in the rhythm of his movement like some kind of invocation, talking himself into ignoring his feelings and needs like his father had taught him, or the way he, Remus, was thinking of his beloved Sirius right now.

For what seemed to be hours he kept watching the raven-haired teen, who was staring fixedly into space from jaded eyes, his face more and more turning into a mask of callousness as he seemed to gradually withdraw from his own emotions. When finally weariness overcame him, Snape sank down on his bed and fell asleep, still hugging himself tightly.

Some moments later Remus found himself watching several quickly changing episodes at different large houses, all of them having in common the presence of a tall, young man with long, shimmering, white-blond hair and cold silver eyes.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

What could he have to do with this? Remus wondered, observing the interaction between the two young men, who sometimes were alone and sometimes accompanied by several others. It was quite obvious that Snape seemed to admire the older blond, judging from the glances he regularly shot him, and the longer Remus watched, the more he wondered if it was not more than just admiration. In Malfoy's presence Snape's mask of languidness visibly crumbled - although, as Remus noticed, the teen tried to hide it - and he looked self-conscious and eager to please the blond.

"Join us, Severus," Malfoy's voice startled him from his pondering. "The Dark Lord rewards his servants with great power. The power to retaliate upon those who have wronged them."

Remus could watch a spark flare up in Snape's eyes at these words.

"You will see, it pays well," Malfoy went on. "I'll return tomorrow to receive your answer. Think about it."

When the blond had left, Snape flopped into a chair. "They want me to join them," he murmured incredulously. "They actually want me. _He_ wants me."

_'They want me. He wants me.'_ Remus remembered himself thinking the very same when he had become friends with James, Sirius and Peter. And when he and Sirius had become more…

Snape had found acceptance at last. But with whom… it was an evidence of incapacity on the light side that the ones who had given him the feeling of being wanted and accepted were no one but Death Eaters. Of course, everyone should have realised that not all of those who had joined Voldemort's forces had simply done it out of hunger for power, or because they were "evil" persons, like the largest part of the public seemed to believe. But it was so much easier to not think about it, so convenient.

Still musing about these revelations, Remus noticed Snape's room change into a smaller one, and now he saw Snape, who must be about twenty by now, standing in front of the fire place while Malfoy was looking out of the window.

"Nice day," the blond said in a conversational tone. "Perfect weather for a little hunting trip. Are you in?"

Remus winced. He perfectly could imagine what prey Malfoy and his companions would be after. Muggles and Muggle-born wizards. 'Inferior creatures'. The mere thought of it made him feel sick.

"Lucius," he heard Snape answer, "I… can we talk?" Snape's vocal tone made Remus take a sharp look at the raven-haired young man. He seemed to be extremely insecure, wringing his hands nervously, his gaze oscillating between the sight of Malfoy's back and the stone floor at his feet.

"About what?" came the rather disinterested reply.

"Well, I… I'm not sure how to put it, but… it's really important to me, you see," Snape stuttered, struggling to find the right words. "We… we have known each other for so long now and… and I have… I just want you to know that I always, for the last years... wanted it to be more…" he trailed off and cast his eyes downward, waiting for the other man to speak. When after some minutes the blonde had not answered yet, Snape raised his head. "Lucius," he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly, "I… love you."

Thick silence spread across the room. It lasted for some seconds, and then Remus could hear a small sound, which was becoming louder with every instant. At first he could not really sort it, but when the blond finally turned round, revealing a sneering expression on his face that took Remus's breath away, he realised what it was: Malfoy was laughing.

Snape seemed paralysed. Malfoy went on laughing. Remus doubted the sanity of the universe.

Finally, the blond had calmed down enough to speak. "Oh, isn't that cute," he scoffed. "You love me! Oh, you have no idea how flattered I'm feeling! Or… no, I don't. In fact, I'm rather disgusted."

Snape gaped at the man in front of him, obviously having trouble to realise what he had heard. "But… I mean," he stuttered, "I didn't expect you to… to love me in return, being married with Narcissa, but… you are my friend… I thought you would understand…"

"Friend?" Malfoy cut him off, visibly amused by the younger man's dismay. "Who ever said we were friends?"

Unable to speak, Snape merely stared at him.

"And even love!" Malfoy sneered. "You really overreach yourself. What makes you think you were worthy of anyone's love?"

Pure, unadulterated horror spread across Snape's face. This was enough to make even his usual mask of indifference completely fall apart.

"Moreover, friendship and love are for the weak. Are you weak, Severus? Not that it takes me by surprise -I always knew that some day you would come up with something pathetic like this." Malfoy slowly walked towards the door, and, having reached it, shot Snape a last sneering glance. "Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have. You have been useful, Severus. Nothing more." And with this he was gone.

For some moments Snape stood petrified with horror, then he stumbled over to his bed with shaky steps and sat down on it. Remus, who had followed him, noticed that his breath was coming in heavy, ragged gasps which he in vain tried to steady. Again Remus could watch the young man wrap his arms around himself, and again he began rocking, whispering "A Snape does not cry" over and over again. But this time he could not stop the tears from falling, no matter how hard he tried, and finally he sank down, crying frantically, still sobbing "A Snape does not cry" like a last desperate and vain attempt to meet the demands life had made on him.

Having to witness all this made Remus's heart clutching with sympathy. "Severus… I'm so sorry…" he breathed, desperately wishing to be able to soothe the young wizard's anguish. But of course, this was impossible, and the hand with which he unconsciously had reached out to gently touch the crying man slid through his shoulder unopposedly. He had to watch helplessly as Severus curled up to a tight ball and went on crying, until after far too long a time the heartbreaking sobs slowly subsided and Remus realised that the young man had finally wept himself to sleep.

During this time it was that he first noticed how very thin Severus was. He seemed so fragile and young, almost like a child… It was a mystery to Remus how he already could have suffered that much without breaking down completely.

_'I only hope that's all now,'_ Remus thought, not believing there could be anything worse to discover. The idea there should be even more things Severus needed to forget about did not appeal to him at all. But this hope was dashed when he noticed that the light that was coming from the window had changed. It must have been about noon before, now it was late afternoon, and Remus knew he would see more.

_'What next?'_ he asked himself, when suddenly the door was flung open and several figures entered the room, all of whom were dressed in black robes and masks which covered their faces so they would not be identified. But why were they all capped and gowned? Snape was one of them, wasn't he? He knew them anyway. Remus was confused.

His puzzlement even increased when he watched two of them approach the bed and roughly catch hold of the still sleeping young man.

"Wake up, Severus," one of them sneered. "It's show time!"

"What…" the addressed murmured, still drowsy and visibly confused at the sight he was presented with. But before he could say anything more a third figure had stepped in front of him and now brutally slapped him in the face. The mere force of the blow made Severus's head tilt sideways, and when he looked up again, black eyes met cold grey ones.

"Malfoy!" Remus whispered, who had recognised the young aristocrat from his long, blond hair that was tied up to a braid.

"Our hunting trip was not crowned with success," the blond hissed in a portentous voice. "But here we have someone who will serve as booties as well."

"Lucius," Severus stuttered, "what… what do you mean?"

"Well, Severus," Malfoy said, "we'll play a very nice little game. Regard it as your comeuppance for your hubris some hours ago." With these words he beckoned the others, who were still holding the raven-haired man, to come with him, and stalked out of the room.

Remus watched Severus being dragged through the room and out of the door, followed by the remaining masked figures. He followed them through corridors and down several stairs until at last, they arrived at a large windowless dungeon where Severus was rudely thrown to the ground. He immediately tried to jump up again, but two hooded figures - much stronger than the slender young man - quickly lunged at him and held him down. Another of their companions grabbed some iron chains which were lying on the ground and tied him up with them.

"Lucius!" Severus's eyes were blank with fear as looked around hysterically for the blond. "Stop it!" He got no answer. "You… you can't really… I mean… damn, I _trusted_ you," he whispered desperately.

"Now, that's your problem, isn't it?" came the cold reply. "The potion!" Malfoy ordered, and one of the others knelt down beside Severus, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and forcing him to swallow a liquid from a vial he suddenly had produced from somewhere.

"Since I'm the one who had to bear the insult, it's only fair that I should be the one who is first," Malfoy now went on. _"Crucio!"_ he said icily, pointing his wand at the chained man on the ground.

Remus gaped as Severus was writhing with pain, his head again and again violently thudding on the stone floor.

"It's your turn," the blond then addressed his companions, a smirk playing on his lips. "Anything goes."

After some time Remus closed his eyes, unable to stand to the sight of Severus being hexed again and again, his limbs jerking uncontrollably, his face a grimace of mere agony. But however hard he tried, he could not blind out the screams and the laughter the dungeon was resounding with. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, the screams gave way to a weak whimper, and when Remus opened his eyes he was presented with the sight of Severus, who was trembling all over, eyes closed, the floor beneath his head daubed with blood.

"My, my, Severus, that's pathetic," Malfoy drawled. "The fun hasn't even really begun, and yet you are whining like a thrashed mutt. I'm rather disappointed with you."

'Not even begun?' Remus thought incredulously. Wasn't this terrible enough? What else could they have planned? He did not want to imagine.

"Leave us alone!" Malfoy now ordered.

When the others had gone, only the blond and Severus were left, the former looking down at the latter with a cruel smile. With a quick spell Malfoy unchained him, and another spell rid Severus of his clothes. Severus's eyes fluttered open and he groaned weakly. Remus was surprised he was still conscious, having been exposed to the Cruciatus curse for so long a time.

"Now, Severus," Malfoy drawled as he slowly took off his own robes and mask and undid his trousers, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "Let us satisfy your yearning for love!"

"No…" Remus refused to believe his eyes when the blonde reached out for the defenceless young man on the ground and grabbed him rudely.

"I really hope you'll enjoy this, for that's what you were after, isn't it!" Malfoy sneered.

Severus's reply was a weak whimper, his eyes wide with horror. "L-Lucius…" he finally ground out, but the blonde silenced him with a brutal slap in the face.

The following scenes would forever be burned into Remus's memory. Severus, helpless, far too weak to defend himself, being convulsed with pain. Malfoy, visibly pleased with his victim's aguish.

Malfoy's voice snarled at Severus between panting gasps. "This… really… disgusts me… You… disgust… me… Do you… have the… slightest… idea… what… an effort… it costs me… to touch… you? Your mere… existence… makes me… sick!"

Remus prayed for it to be over soon, feeling he could not witness this for another second, but his prayer was not answered. Something inside him yelled at him to close his eyes and cover his ears, but he was unable to move.

Finally Malfoy had done with Severus and got up. Laughing, he towered above him triumphantly.

"Now, _Snivellus_, it really seems Potter and his friends got the point," he spat, kicking Severus right in the stomach. Still laughing, Malfoy put on his trousers and robes and left the room, leaving behind a whimpering bundle, curled up and shaking with agony.

Several shredded memories now floated by, containing Malfoy, Severus, more Cruciatus curses, a whip, blood, more laughing, more screams and crying and even more scenes like the foregoing one.

At last this madness faded away, and it was only now that Remus felt his legs give in and sank down to the ground. When he had recovered a little, he noticed that he still was in a dungeon, but now it was a smaller one, and there was a trellised window through which faint light was shining into the cell. A droning whimper was coming from the corner furthest from the door, and Remus could make out the cowering silhouette of a body.

He forced himself to get up and approached the figure, and, kneeling down beside it, he recognised Severus, who was rocking back and forth, arms tightly wrapped around his tucked up legs. He was naked, his skeletal body covered in blood, his back a mass of raw flesh. But what shocked Remus even more was the look in the young man's wide eyes. There was no spark of life in the black depths but a void that tried to absorb Remus the more the longer he kept staring into it.

Suddenly the door was flung open, and, his head snapping round, Remus saw a tall shape entering the cell. When it came nearer, he recognised that the wizard who had stepped in was Albus Dumbledore. Behind him Remus could make out a tall, hooded shape which seemed to be a Dementor, and now he realised that this was Azkaban.

Albus slipped across the room silently, and Severus's breath hitched unpleasantly until the old wizard crouched down beside him and pulled a spare robe gently around his shoulders, carefully minding his severely wounded back.

"It is over, child," he whispered gently, pulling the unresisting Severus to his feet as though the latter was a china doll and ready to break at any moment. "I have told them what you were doing for our side. You are leaving this place."

"I have… I have nowhere to go," Severus whispered in the hoarse tones of one who had been wrung dry of life. More than that, he sounded as if he had no refreshing spring or fountain to revitalise himself with - a man made old long before his time.

"You are coming to Hogwarts with me, Severus. I have already arranged for you to teach."

"I… can't."

"You can, child, and you will. You merely need to have faith in yourself. I do."

* * *

When after some more minutes, Remus finally pulled his head out of the Pensieve and looked up to face the headmaster, Albus could see horror flicker in his eyes, some unnoticed tears running down his ashen face.

"Why, Albus?" the younger wizard whispered, unable to steady his cracking voice. "Just tell me why… why did you ever let Severus go and face him again?"


	8. Explanations

**Chapter 08- Explanations**

It was the worst of all possible questions, and Remus knew it the very instant he asked it. As he looked at the headmaster, who was sitting in the visitors' chair by now, he could practically see the weight the latter was bearing on his shoulders. He was looking very old and very exhausted, and his usually twinkling blue eyes looked back sadly at the younger man.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I didn't mean to -"

"No, you do not have to apologise," Albus interrupted in a low voice. "I keep asking myself the very same question since the first day he again undertook this task."

* * *

Albus knew exactly what his younger colleague had seen in the pensieve, because he had taken a look into it before Remus's visit. Most of the memories he had only skimmed, knowing them by heart after years of watching over his Potions Master. Moreover, they never became easier to bear, no matter how often he saw them. In fact, quite the contrary was the case. Sometimes they would follow him into his dreams, asking him in reproachful voices how he could ever have allowed this to happen. Why had he not taken better care of his spy? His child… if not by blood, then by heart. Or soul.

And now, after Voldemort's return, there were new memories in the pensieve. A new one every time the arch-fiend of the Wizarding world would summon his followers, every time Lucius Malfoy would catch Severus after the meeting. As he had done today.

_'Just like the good old times.'_ Still some part of Albus's mind was resounding with Malfoy's words, and still he could see Severus, motionless, his eyes behind the mask blank with fear at the other man's touch.

"Albus? Are you alright?" The younger man's concerned voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Yes," he answered, bracing himself. "Do not worry about me. I was… thinking." He focussed on his younger colleague, who was looking at him inquiringly. "I think I now owe you some explanations."

* * *

Although his mind was still a whirling chaos and he hardly found enough self-control to calm down, Remus wiped his tears off and tried to concentrate on the old wizard, who was waiting patiently for him to be ready to listen.

"First of all," the headmaster began, "be ensured that I would never have done this if I had not felt it to be the last way out. I do not make it a habit of mine to betray the trust that people bestow upon me. This, however, was necessary, while hard, and I will explain you everything from the beginning.

"You know that Severus changed sides about a year before Voldemort's downfall. He came to me and offered his service as a spy, knowing that he could not simply quit his master's service without being hunted and, most likely, getting killed. I offered to grant him asylum at Hogwarts, one of the few places Voldemort was unable to gain access to. Of course, it would be a great service to our cause if he became a spy, I thought, but I noticed how much he suffered from what he had done during the time in Voldemort's service, and as a spy he would have to continue taking part in torturing and murdering innocent people.

"Severus, however, refused my offer. He wanted to do something for our side instead of merely hide and wait. He wanted to be useful, and I accepted this wish. I do not think I would have done so if I had known that he was in love with Lucius Malfoy. Severus truly was convinced that what Voldemort was aiming for was wrong, as were his means to gain it, and he wanted to help the Light side – but although he knew Lucius to be Voldemort's right hand he could not repress his feelings. And finally… his love ended in disaster."

He paused, and Remus took this chance to ask a question. "Why, Albus? I simply don't understand why anyone would do this… even Lucius Malfoy."

There was a short silence before the old wizard answered. "I do not know, either. There are some things we will never be able to understand. And," he continued in a rather tired voice, "some things I do not want to understand."

Remus had to agree with this. If he ever was able to understand such a deed, he would not be human anymore.  
"I do not know how Lucius could do this," Albus went on. "But I do know that at this very time he had some severe problems in his marriage. Narcissa did not approve of his Death Eater activities, and only some days before, she had left him and taken their son with her to her parents. It was a public disgrace to him, and I suppose as he could not gain access to her, he vented his wrath on Severus… There was no real reason, and I keep myself telling that there is no point in trying to find one. It only drives us to despair, because we will never find out."

Remus had thought the same himself after Sirius's death. Or at least he had tried… No, he must not think of this now, he admonished himself, directing his attention back to the headmaster, who had continued his explanations.

"The place where Lucius had kept him imprisoned was one of Voldemort's hiding places, and eight days after Severus had declared his love for Lucius, a group of Aurors attacked the house. They had planned the attack accurately, and they outnumbered the Death Eaters three to one. In the end, all Death Eaters present were arrested or dead, and when they searched the house, they found Severus. You know, of course, that back at this time only a few people, all of them members of the Order, were aware of the fact that Severus was our spy – otherwise the safety hazard would have been far too large. Because he carried the Dark Mark, the Aurors took him for a Death Eater who somehow must have displeased Voldemort or someone in a high-ranking position."

Remus nodded to himself. Severus had explained to the Order that between the Death Eaters, there was no such thing as loyalty to one another. To increase their power they would do almost anything, and betraying and torturing their own companions was not excluded from "almost anything."

"The Ministry," Albus went on, "was so eager to punish the arrested criminals that they sent them to Azkaban right away, without giving them a trial or even tending their injuries – much as Sirius would be sent to Azkaban at the end of the war." His voice had risen only slightly, but Remus felt the anger that was seething in the normally self-controlled headmaster.

"They dragged Severus from one dungeon to the other, although he could have died from his wounds. I had to exert all my influence, and it took me over a week to convince the officials and was allowed to take him with me. I will… never forget his sight when I came to get him."

Remus could see the pain that was flickering across the old wizard's face while thinking of the condition he had found Severus in.

"I took him to Hogwarts, since he had nowhere to go, and it has been home to him ever since. Of course it took him some time to recover insomuch that he was able to teach. His wounds were infected, he was feverish and almost died… not to mention the psychological aspect…"

Albus's voice died away, and the room was silent for some minutes. Both men were lost in their thoughts, and Remus found himself thinking that he admired Severus for having the strength to go on, to face life. He did not even try to think of what he would have done in his place, knowing he would never be able to imagine.

"He has never talked about all that happened," Albus finally went on, "but when I offered him to lend him my Pensieve from time to time – when he needed a rest from his thoughts – he agreed to let me see everything. And ever since I learned what happened… I wish I would have prevented it."

"How could you have?" Remus asked softly. "You couldn't know what would happen. You didn't know he loved Malfoy and what would come of it."

"Of course, you are right, but something keeps telling me that from the moment on he had become my spy, I was responsible for him. I was incredibly relieved when he turned from Voldemort and came to me for help. It seemed that at last I got the chance I had always hoped for. I had worried about him ever since his first year at school."

A small smile appeared on the old wizard's face. "Do not ask me why, but in a way this boy had touched me… differently from everything I had ever experienced." The smile faded away. "Unfortunately, I never found access to him… he would not open up to anyone, and, knowing about his adverse conditions at home and his problems at school, I had to watch helplessly as he chose the Dark side.

"Of course, I was worried about him when he began spying, for we both knew his punishment would be severe should Voldemort ever find out about his betrayal - but it meant much to him to actually play an active part in his former master's defeat. He wanted to make up for his deeds, Remus," the headmaster said. "And just as then, this was the reason why he volunteered to again undertake this task when it became clear that Voldemort had returned. Or at least that was what he told me. Now we finally have come back to your question. Why did I let him go?"

* * *

Albus closed his eyes for some seconds, gathering strength to go on talking. It was bad enough to think about this during the long, sleepless hours of the nights, agonising over this question over and over again. Talking about it was almost more than he felt capable of.

"I… did not ask him to do this. I would never have suggested it, would never have thought of it. But when it became obvious that Voldemort had risen to power for the second time and the Order built up again, Severus came to me and asked me to let him go and provide the Order with information. He was convinced that Voldemort would accept him as his follower once more, because to the Death Eaters it had never been known that he was a traitor. I had convinced the Ministry not to make his espionage public knowledge, because I was afraid for his safety if any of the escaped Death Eaters should learn he had betrayed them. Even the trial that was held against him because of Karkaroff's accusations after Voldemort's defeat was held in complete secrecy.

"As to his proposal of spying again: I downright refused to allow it. I was aghast that he even thought of it, for I had no doubt Lucius Malfoy would be one of the first who would return to his master. The mere idea of Severus having to face him again, and not only once but uncountable times, was unbearable to me."

And it still was. _'How very nice to meet you, Severus,'_ Malfoy's voice echoed through his mind once more. Albus shook his head to rid himself of it, knowing that sooner or later it would return. For the time being, however, it worked.

"I would not let him go. This was what I told him. He tried to reason. He argued how useful he could be to the Order, but I refused to listen. When he realised that it was no use, he became furious. But that was no use, either. I thought he would resign himself to my decision, but I underestimated his determination in this matter."

A memory slipped into his mind. He saw himself, sitting right here at his desk, and Severus, who had stopped pacing the office and now was looking directly in his eyes.

* * *

_"I will go, whether you agree or not. You cannot restrain me at Hogwarts, and if you do not let me be of use to the Order, I will leave and try on my own account. I will share any information I get with the Order, of course, but you will no longer be able to watch over me. Now choose." _

Albus was completely taken aback by his Potions Master's calm and icy words. Severus could not be serious! Watching the younger man, who was standing in front of his desk, his expression firm with determination, he realised that Severus indeed meant what he had said. He would go, no matter how he, Albus, thought about it. It was not a real choice the headmaster had to face, for they both knew he would not abandon the man he had taken under his wing years ago.

"You... may do as you wish, Severus," the old wizard answered slowly, his voice thick with the tiredness he felt taking him over from within. "Of course I do not want to lose you as a teacher… nor as a friend."

"Thank you," Severus said, and while he managed to maintain an unmoved expression, the headmaster could watch relief flicker in his eyes. "I wouldn't have appreciated being… alone."

"You will never be alone, Severus," Albus replied softly. Then his tone changed, became firm once more. "You may go, but I insist that you will let me know everything that happens at the meetings. Everything."

The younger wizard did not answer but nodded briefly to assent. They both knew what the headmaster was talking about.

When Severus had left, the old wizard kept his gaze directed at the door through which some moments ago his child had gone to face things no one should experience even in their worst dreams. It was the first time that he asked himself whether he should not have prevented Severus from doing so – even, if need be, by the use of force – and it would not be the last time in a row of endless days, nights, weeks and months.

* * *

"Severus told me bluntly that he would go anyway, whether I would agree or not. He threatened to leave Hogwarts and try on his own account. I could not allow it, and this was what he was counting on. I agreed to let him do as he had asked me."

He took a deep breath before continuing. It was hard to articulate, even though he had known it was true for a long time now. Pronouncing the words, however, made it even more real. More cruel. More accusatory.

"I should… I should have prevented him from going. Somehow. Perhaps by force. He would have hated me, but… he would have been safe. I should have prevented him from slowly committing suicide, for this is exactly what he is doing."

* * *

"Wait a minute," Remus said. He still felt fairly uneasy in discussing another person's personal matters without their knowledge. He had listened to the headmaster without interrupting him, but now he could no longer abstain from raising objections - although it felt ridiculous, considering what he had witnessed in the Pensieve.

"Don't you think it's enough now? Severus would be everything else but glad if he knew what we are talking about." It was a downright understatement. He would be beside himself with fury if he ever found out.

"Of course," the headmaster replied. He pointed at the Pensieve. "But why do you think did I show you all this? As I said… I did not see another option. It has gone too far by now. Don't you see, Remus? Have you not watched him over the last weeks?"

Of course Remus had observed Severus, and he knew what Albus meant. "Yes, I have. He barely eats. He is looking horrible, and I doubt he sleeps much."

"No, I am sure he does not. He told me the nightmares he used to have had ceased years ago – but when you told me about the night at Grimmauld Place, I knew that it was not true. Or that at least they had come back."

"What about Dreamless Sleep? Or any other sleeping potion?"

The headmaster shook his head. "What do you know about Dreamless Sleep?" he asked.

"Um… I never was that good at Potions," Remus had to admit.

"It is highly addictive," Albus explained. "Severus was addicted to it for several years. He cannot use it, nor any other sleeping potion, as they are all based on the same addictive ingredient. Sometimes, like tonight, I will lend him my Pensieve so he can sleep undisturbed for one night. Unfortunately, you cannot leave your memories in it permanently."

Remus nodded. There was no way of ridding yourself completely from unwanted memories – even Memory Charms could be broken, often by the smallest things. Memories belonged to their owners, they were a part of them. If there had been a way, he was not sure whether he would not have taken the chance to forget… forget about Sirius, for example. But these, as he now realised, were remembrances you could live with, compared to what he had seen in the Pensieve…

The Pensieve.

"This was most unfair," he said calmly, pointing at the bowl with the silvery liquid.

"Yes, it was," Albus admitted tiredly. "I am sorry." They both knew the old wizard had counted on the fact that Remus would not be able to refuse his help, once he knew the truth. And of course, he had not been mistaken.

"I am sorry," Albus repeated, "but I was desperate. I am still. He would not talk to me when I tried. He would not let me help him. Severus would never accept help from me, no matter how sorely he needs it. And his condition is becoming worse. Have you ever noticed the Glamour Charm he uses?"

"Yes, but it was almost gone tonight," Remus replied. "Wait – does this mean… does he use it regularly?"

"Ever since he began teaching, it has become a second nature to him… Well, over several years he did not use it every day, but now… now that…" the headmaster had to pause to steady his voice. "However, recently he loses control. He cannot maintain it over long periods of time. Especially when he is upset… when there has been a summoning, like tonight."

"Yes, no wonder he was that distraught…" Remus murmured. It had shocked him to the core when he had watched the present-day's Death Eater meeting in the pensieve - when he had seen Lucius Malfoy taunting Severus. It had shocked him even more, though, to witness the panic attack Severus had suffered after his return to Hogwarts. And to watch their argument, and hear himself use the words Malfoy had spoken sixteen years ago, had crowned his horror.

_'Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have.'_

"Albus… I don't think that I'm the right person to help him. Think of what I said to him! He must hate me."

"Please try. I do not know what else we could do. And something has to be done. Imagine the Death Eaters taking advantage of his condition. Imagine what would happen to him if they found out that he is a traitor. There will come the point when he will break down, and the risk that it happens while he is with them is far too large."

The pain in the old wizard's eyes and voice struck Remus deeply. He was almost begging by now. Albus Dumbledore never begged anyone for anything.

"Please, Remus… Severus… he is like a son to me. I… I love him dearly, and I cannot bear watching him fall apart. I cannot help him, because he thinks that he owes me for saving his life, and he cannot accept anything more from me. But it is different with you. He needs an equal, and that is what you are. He does not owe you anything, and it seems he liked spending time with you."

This was true, as Remus had to admit. He had figured himself that Severus must, in a way, appreciate his presence – otherwise he would not have met him over several weeks. Especially not after the – to Severus's mind – more than embarrassing incident at Grimmauld Place.

There was one thing, though, he still did not quite understand. "Why did he want to do this, anyway? You said he wanted to 'make up' for his deeds, but it can't be the true reason, at least I don't think so. He has paid enough, more than enough. Why would he want to expose himself to this kind of torture?"

The old wizard sighed at hearing these words. "This is something I would like to find out myself," he responded. "As I said, he never talks to me, or at least not about anything that would concern his feelings."

For some minutes they sat in silence, during which Remus tried to sort the huge amount of information he had been provided with over the last few hours. It was too much to be grasped in so short a time, and he knew he would not sleep tonight, but instead would ponder over what he had seen and heard. But, as he now became aware, his decision had already been made at the very moment he had seen what Malfoy had done.

"Albus?" he said, startling the headmaster, who again had closed his eyes, from his thoughts. "I will try. I can't promise that I'll be successful, but I'll try."

"I cannot ask more of you," the old wizard answered, visibly relieved. "In fact, I cannot even ask this. I know that it must be hard for you to ignore Severus's attitude towards Sirius. I… thank you."

Remus swallowed hard. Sirius… this would be one of the things that would prevent him from sleeping. There way no way to avoid the subject any longer, having been forced to witness the scenes in the Pensieve. He could no longer be blind to the truth.

"I think…" his voice was hoarse, and he had to begin again. "I think my attitude hasn't been objective, either," he managed. "Don't worry, Albus. I'll get along."

In looking at the big, old-fashioned clock on the right wall, he noticed that it was far beyond midnight by now.

"I think I should go to bed," he said. "I'm sorry for keeping you from sleeping. Certainly it wasn't your intention to spend half the night in your office."

"Never mind," the headmaster replied, a touch of melancholy in his voice. "I highly doubt I would have slept well."

_'Or slept at all,'_ Remus thought.

"One last thing, Remus," Albus held him back when he had got up and walked towards the exit.

Remus turned his head round, and he was struck by the old wizard's expression of quiet resignation. "What is it?"

"When Severus finds out that you learned about his past – and rest assured that some day he will – do not lie to him. Let him have the truth." The headmaster's voice, while it was sad and tired, yet was firm. "He will need you more than he needs me, and if the price for saving him is losing him, I will pay it."

* * *


	9. Worries

**Chapter 09 - Worries**

Remus left the headmaster's office and slowly walked down the spiral staircase, feeling as though reality was hiding behind drifts of mist which made everything seem distant and blurred. He staggered through the dark and empty corridors to his chambers, tired, slowly, not paying any attention to Peeves, who seemed to take much pleasure in knocking over every piece of armour in the castle.

Arriving at his rooms, he did not bother to light the fire but sat down in his wing chair, staring into the darkness. But he did not need any light to see the images of Malfoy and Severus before his inner eye. He did not even try to fight them off, knowing that the attempt would not be successful. Instead, he let them float by, once, twice, again, again and again. His body felt strangely numb, as though it did not really belong to him, and only vaguely was he aware of the tears which again were creeping down his cheeks. He did not know how long it took, but finally his mind reluctantly accepted the images as a part of reality, and bit by bit the world became less surreal, less distant, and his body and mind slowly returned to a more normal state until at last he felt that he again was capable of thinking.

Why? How could anyone – no! He cut the thought off. No. This would not lead him anywhere.

Another question, then, to occupy his mind with. Why did Albus think he was the right choice to help Severus with this? Yes, it seemed that he had come to like their appointments, but, now knowing what exactly was troubling Severus, Remus doubted that he would ever have opened up so much that Remus could have done anything for him. In almost sixteen years, Severus had not spoken once with the person he trusted most, so how could Albus ever hope that he would confide in Remus, of all people?

At first, after the incident at Grimmauld Place, Remus had thought Albus had chosen him because he had been the one who incidentally had witnessed Severus's nightmare and now was concerned about his colleague, but now he realised there must be more behind it.

_'He needs an equal,'_ Albus had said. Someone to whom Severus did not owe a debt – unlike the headmaster. Well, Severus had spread his knowledge of Remus's lycanthropy two and a half years ago so that he had had to give up his position as teacher - now, Voldemort having returned, the parents were not interested in this fact at all, wanting their children to get the best DADA teaching possible - but in his heart Remus had long forgiven his colleague for doing so. A year later he would have quit the job anyway, Sirius having returned to Grimmauld Place at last and needing him there… With great effort, Remus put his mind off this thought. No, not this, not yet. He knew he would not be able to think of anything else, once he allowed himself to dive into this thread.

Back to Severus, then. No, Severus truly did not owe him, Remus thought bitterly. If anything, it was quite the other way round. He had watched passively for years as his friends had taunted their fellow student. Of course, after a while Severus had begun to retaliate upon them and had played pranks on them in return, but in the first place it had been them who had, without any provocation, begun picking on him. Back then at school Remus had done nothing to further the friendship that could have developed between them, had even tolerated his friends terrorising Severus because he had been too much of a coward to prevent them from doing what his conscience had told him was wrong. Not quite the perfect grounds for establishing a friendly contact with Severus now.

In thinking about this, he remembered something else. He had completely forgotten about the circumstances in which he and Severus had first met each other. He had not remembered that their first contact had been of a friendly nature - Severus helping him, smiling at him, talking to him during the seemingly endless ride on the train - and even the events during the Sorting had entirely vanished from his memory.

For a short moment a faint smile lit his face. Now that he had witnessed all this, he again remembered. He, holding hands with Severus Snape… it was a strange, while not appalling thought. The other boy's touch had felt good; it had provided him with security, something he had been badly in need for at that time. No, he decided, they were definitely good memories. At least to him – to Severus, it seemed, they were not. Or why was it that he apparently wanted to forget about them; why should they upset him that much that he needed to get rid of them, be it only for one night?

_'I had forgotten about it, but Severus had not!'_ Otherwise the memories could not have been in the pensieve. Did this mean then… _'He remembered, and he hoped we could tie in with this, noticing that I wanted to spend time with him? Was this the reason why he agreed on meeting me? He didn't only meet me because he liked playing chess or whatever other reason there could have been - but because he really wanted to be with ME?'_

Knowing that of course this was nothing but speculation, Remus, to his own astonishment, found himself enjoying the idea – until his thoughts came back to the present day's events. Great, then. This must be the reason why Severs now wanted to forget about it – because he, Remus, had crossly told him that he was not worthy of anyone's friendship and thereby had shattered his hope.

_'Congratulations, Remus! Well done, indeed,'_ he thought gloomily. On the other hand – how should he have known about it, Severus being so damn secretive about anything concerning his feelings? And how was he supposed to become friends with a man who had nothing better to do than picking on Sirius, the man Remus had loved?

_'It's because of Sirius that I forgot about the train and the sorting!'_ Suddenly the thought suggested itself, screaming for attention so loudly that he could not ignore it. And he had not forgotten about it, it occurred to him - this realisation cutting in even more pungently - no, he had chosen not to remember. He had shoved these events back into the last corner of his mind to be able to better tolerate his friends' and his lover's behaviour. Abruptly, Remus felt utterly disgusted with himself. How much of a hypocrite had he been?

Thinking about this, he remembered other things he had chosen to forget. How during the first weeks of their first year Severus would smile at him from the Slytherin table. How he would smile back until James had asked him why in the name of Merlin he would smile at the Slytherin git. How he would talk to Severus in the corridors, his friends standing some metres away and waiting impatiently. How he had stopped talking to Severus, pretending not to see the other boy approaching him. How within a year Severus's smiles had turned into scowls.

After wallowing in self-contempt for quite a time, Remus decided that this was leading him nowhere. Sighing deeply, he decided he would merely have to try to further whatever had developed between Severus and himself during the last weeks. He had promised to Albus that he would try, and now that he thought about it more deeply than before, when his only thought had been to escape the pain the realisations about Sirius had caused, he felt that he indeed did not want this to end. He had enjoyed Severus's presence far too much.

It was not that he did not spend some hours with other colleagues from time to time: he would occasionally meet over a cup of tea with Albus – and have one of the inevitable sherbet lemons – every now and then he would discuss the overlapping of DADA and Charms with Filius Flitwick, who seemed to have an obsession with cheese, as he always offered him some outright disgusting blue mould cheese, and sometimes he would even stop by Hagrid's cabin and have some of his unbelievably hard biscuits. But, as he now became aware, he had never enjoyed any of this the way he had enjoyed playing chess with Severus.

And… when had he begun thinking of him as 'Severus' instead of 'Snape'? Not that it felt bad, though… In front of the students they were supposed to call each other by their first names anyway, according to the golden rule that teachers should always show unity - though Severus had rarely followed this rule with him. Without any students present, however, the two of them had chosen to use their last names, thus carrying forward the habit they had developed during school.

_'I used to call him Severus in first year,'_ he remembered. Only when his friends had continued pointing out how much they disliked the Slytherin, Remus had become used to calling him 'Snape', as they had done. Never 'Snivellus', the odious nickname James and Sirius had come up with.

Sirius… again. Soon he would not be able to repress the images, which would assail him every time he thought of his friend. Nevertheless, Remus managed to once more return to his initial question: why had Albus chosen him? Maybe, he thought, the appallingly plausible idea suddenly crossing his mind, maybe it was because the headmaster knew him to have some experience with severely traumatised persons? Maybe Albus thought him therefore capable of dealing with Severus's problems? Because he had lived with Sirius for several months, because he had had to deal with the after-effects of Azkaban…

Sirius had always maintained grim self-control when someone else was at Grimmauld Place – which was mostly when there was a meeting of the Order – as he had not wanted anyone to know, and especially not Harry. He had tried to force himself to again get accustomed to the presence of many people, but the trouble, the noise, the arguments – especially when all Weasleys were present – had often been too much, although he had always managed somehow to hide it from everyone but Remus. The latter would never oversee the tension in his friend's face, nor the slight quivering of his hands, or the smallest undertone in his voice.

When they were alone it was easier, for there was no need to pretend anything. Sirius was much quieter than before his imprisonment, and if Remus had not known him before, he would hardly have believed he had once been such a vibrant, energetic man. Sometimes, he would sit in front of the fireplace for hours, staring into the fire, not speaking nor moving at all.

And sometimes, in his mind, Azkaban had come back.

Staring into the unlighted room, Remus felt as though the darkness was becoming even thicker, blacker, as though there was a difference between just 'dark' and 'pitch-black', aroused by his own sombre thoughts. He felt cold, too, but he did not have the energy to summon a blanket to wrap himself up in or perform the simple spell it took to lit a fire. Instead, he crouched in his chair, shivering - whether with cold or something else he could not tell - as his thoughts began spiralling downward, like they always would when he was thinking of this.

_'James, you know I didn't do it, don't you?' _

'Sirius… it's me Remus…'

'What about Harry? He can't be… he's only a baby…'

'Sirius, Harry's fine, he's fifteen by now.'

'I couldn't know it… I couldn't know he would betray them… James? I didn't know, I'm so sorry.'

'It's alright, we all know it's not your fault. But I need you to come back now, Sirius. Please come back…'

'James? James…'

* * *

At the same time, Albus was sitting in his private rooms, thinking about the events of the evening. He wished it would not have come to this, because it deeply saddened him that he had felt it was necessary to betray Severus's trust that much. Moreover, he felt ashamed that he had manipulated Remus in such a way, even though the younger man had understood his reasons.

Well, this was not entirely true. While everything he had told Remus was the truth, he had left some things unspoken. It was right that Severus needed someone to help him – what the headmaster had not mentioned, though, was that, in his opinion, Remus needed a standby, too.

Ever since some weeks before last Christmas, Albus had been profoundly concerned about him.

* * *

_It was a Saturday evening at the end of November. There had been a meeting of the Order in the afternoon, and by now everyone but Albus had left headquarters. He hoped to have the opportunity for a private talk with Remus, wondering if he could convince him to resume his position as Defence teacher, once Dolores Umbridge would have to leave - something he had no real doubt would happen sooner or later. And in his opinion, there was no one who was more qualified for this position than Remus Lupin. _

He had just bidden farewell to Kingsley Shacklebolt and now made his way through the entrance hall to search for Remus. First he looked at the study, but, noticing it to be unlighted, he was about to turn and leave, when suddenly he heard a noise. It seemed to be a voice, whispering words he did not understand from the entrance. Its agonised tone, however, was easily to catch and caused the headmaster to step fully into the room.

"Incendio!"_ he commanded, pointing his wand at the fireplace. In the light of the fire that had flared up instantly, he now could make out a cowering form in a corner of the room. When he approached it, he identified it as Sirius Black, who had his face in his hands and was mumbling incoherently. _

"Remus… I didn't mean to leave you, you know that, don't you? Michael is dead, he had leukaemia… it's all my fault… if I hadn't convinced them to chose Peter they'd be alive…"

Albus knelt down beside the younger man. "Sirius," he asked softly, "what is wrong?"

The cowering man did not react to the headmaster's presence but went on murmuring to himself. When Albus realised he would get no answer, he slowly took hold of Sirius's hands and gently pulled them away from his face. The younger man then raised his head and opened his eyes, but they were unfocused and glassy, seeing right through the old wizard, who again tried to gain his attention.

"Sirius, it is I, Albus. Would you please look at me?"

If possible, Sirius crouched even deeper into the corner, pulling away his hands from the headmaster's soft grip.

"No… no…" he whispered hoarsely, "no… Remus… please believe me… I'd never… Remus, please… Remus…"

He then began to constantly throb the back of his head against the wall – not hard enough to harm himself, but causing a thudding noise that made Albus wince. The headmaster decided that Sirius needed other help than his and quickly got up. He headed towards the door, but before he had fully arrived there, the man he had intended to call appeared in the door frame. Remus was looking worried and relieved at the same time when he saw the older man.

"Albus! Have you seen Sirius? I thought he would be in his room, but -"

"He is here," Albus quietly interrupted, "and he needs you now."

When he made way for Remus, the latter caught sight of his friend and took a sharp breath. Without any further words he immediately hurried through the room and crouched down beside Sirius, carefully seizing him by the shoulders.

"Sirius? It's me, Remus…"

Albus turned and walked out of the study, leaving the younger men to themselves. He knew that Remus could handle this alone - from the way that Remus had immediately understood the situation, Albus knew that this was not a singular incident. He went to the living room and sat down in an armchair, folding his hands across his stomach as he waited.

Two hours later, Remus finally entered the living room. He was looking tired, but there was an air of resoluteness around him as he began speaking.

"Sirius is sleeping now. I won't stay long…" here he hesitated for a moment before he went on, "he needs me to be with him. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment. You mustn't tell anyone, especially not Harry. Sirius doesn't want him to know. Harry needs someone he can rely on, someone he feels is there for him. He doesn't need another burden."

"I will not act against Sirius's wishes," Albus replied calmly. "But I think Harry would understand. They all would –"

"No!" the younger man cut him off sharply, his hands clenched to fists by his sides. "He doesn't need their pity!" His eyes, his raised voice, his bearing, they all spoke volumes.

"It is not pity that you are feeling for him." While the old wizard's tone was gentle, yet his words seemed to sting Remus like a dagger, for he opened his mouth, obviously about to lose his temper with the older man - and then, suddenly, his whole demeanour changed. His fists unclenched, his shoulders slumped, and slowly the expression of anger on his face gave way to one of resignation.

"No, it isn't," he replied softly, smiling a small, sad smile that deeply touched the old wizard.

"Remus, Azkaban… changes people," he tried, hoping to somehow be able to make the younger man speak about his sorrow. "You cannot expect -"

"I know_!" Again anger flared up in Remus's voice, but it did not last. "I know," he repeated sadly. "I don't want to talk about it." _

"I understand. But if you ever need someone to listen…"

Remus shook his head. Slowly, defeated. "I can't. Please."

Albus nodded. "I will leave now." He had given up his plan about asking Remus to someday teach again, knowing that the answer would be negative. As long as the man he loved needed him, Remus would never go anywhere else.

* * *

Since that day, the headmaster had not been able to stop worrying about the two men at Grimmauld Place. He knew that there was nothing he could do for Sirius, and he was sure that Remus would take care of his friend and former lover in the best way possible, giving Sirius everything he needed.

As to what Remus needed – that was something far more complicated. Albus understood that Remus did not want to talk about his situation, but he also knew that silence was not the right path to take. As long as Sirius had been alive, Albus had not tried to speak about the subject again – but he had watched Remus closely every time they had met. Several subtle changes in the younger man's appearance and demeanour had not gone unnoticed. Remus had grown a little less cheerful and a little quieter; his hair had greyed even more, and his bearing and movements sometimes revealed the weariness of someone who slowly, bit by bit, was being wrung dry of vitality. There had been an air of quiet acceptance around him that deeply saddened the headmaster. Had those two not suffered enough already?

After Sirius's death and due to Dolores Umbridge's leave, Albus had convinced Remus to once again take up the position as DADA teacher. Besides the fact that he still thought he was the first choice, he wanted to prevent the younger man from growing lonely at the dismal, empty house, where - of this he had had no doubt - Remus otherwise would have stayed. Again he had offered to listen if Remus should feel the need to talk, and again he had been rewarded with a fragile smile and a polite refusal.

"Thank you, Albus, but this is something I want to keep to myself for now. I'm… not ready to talk about it," the younger wizard had said. And then, whispering more to himself, "I don't think I'll ever be."

Albus sighed deeply when thinking about this conversation. Remus needed someone to talk to – not he, the headmaster, but a close friend, or someone who could take that position by and by. When he had asked Remus to keep an eye on Severus – mainly because he was worried about the latter – this thought had played along, he had to admit. Some people would call him manipulative, but, as Albus thought when he finally went to bed at about 3 o'clock in the morning, sometimes people needed some help to find the right path.

* * *

For Severus, the next week was hell. He had always supposed this place, with all those insufferable brats, was some kind of limbo he had been doomed to, but this week left no doubt about it.

Sunday he spent brooding in his chambers, after he had retrieved his memories in the morning – something he perfectly could have done without. In the afternoon he marked the essays for the next week, feeling almost none of the satisfaction he normally derived from covering the students' parchments with as much angry, crimson ink as possible, an extra prick of grim delight flaring up whenever he would mark a Gryffindor's work with a "P" or worse.

During the following days he tried to keep his mind occupied in order not to think about the events of the previous Saturday. It did not work at all. Every day he would find himself mulling over what had happened, and every time his anger at the world in general and himself in particular would increase.

During classes he would shoot the most penetrating glares at everyone who dared so much as to breathe too loudly, and by Friday every house, even Slytherin, had lost a considerable amount of points. And, as always, Potter had been a particular nuisance.

How would the brat ever hope to become an Auror if he was not even able to follow simple instructions on a board? Severus had merely snorted unbelievingly when he had read the Gryffindor's reason for taking Potions as a N.E.W.T. subject – something every of his students had to write down and hand in at the beginning of the term – and on Wednesday afternoon he had again found his assumption confirmed.

The sixth year students had been supposed to brew the Wolfsbane Potion, which was exceedingly difficult, and he had not seriously expected any of them to do it correctly. The slightest mistake in the amount of the ingredients, the order they were added or the temperature of the liquid, would either turn the potion ineffective – or blow up the cauldron within a second. Of course Potter had chosen the latter possibility, splattering the whole classroom and almost every of his fellow students with hot, purple liquid. After Severus had dismissed more than half of the class to the infirmary, he had positioned himself in front of Potter's desk, glaring daggers at his – after Longbottom's departure after fifth year – most incompetent student.

"I do by no means understand, Mr. Potter, how you managed to creep in my N.E.W.T.s class," he had hissed, adding weight to every single word. "Considering the single working brain cell in that thick head of yours, it is a miracle that you should have done so well in your O.W.L. test without cheating."

He had hoped for the Gryffindor to contradict him, but the boy had merely stared back at him from dull, green eyes, which had upset Severus even more. Potter had behaved that way since the beginning of the term, looking pale and bleary-eyed, shuffling through the corridors like some kind of zombie, pecking listlessly at his food and sitting apathetically and absent-mindedly in his, Severus's, classes. It had taken Severus by surprise that the boy had been in so good a shape at the Quidditch match, considering his poor condition.

Yes, Severus, against common belief, paid close attention to the precious Boy-Who-Lived. How in the name of Merlin should this spoiled brat, who seemed to be bathing in self-pity, ever defeat the second powerful wizard in the world? And to grant the safety of this pathetic excuse for a saviour Severus risked his sanity and life whenever he followed the summoning of the Dark Lord!

Severus had rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Detention, Potter," he had snarled. "Clean this mess! _Without magic_. Rest of the class – dismissed!"

"Yes, Professor," Potter had replied in a low voice and, under the sympathetic glances of his leaving fellow students, had slowly begun mopping up the liquid on the floor.

On Friday evening, Severus was sitting in his living room by the fireside, brooding. If it had been a normal Friday – how easily he had come to accept the meetings with Lupin as something normal in his life! – it would only be fifteen minutes until he would leave for his colleague's rooms. But not today. Nor the following Friday, nor any other day.

Severus scowled at the small fire, willing it to emit more warmth, as he was slightly cold and not feeling well at all. He should probably eat more and, of course, sleep more, but during the last week the mere thought of food had sickened him even more than usual, and at night he often would not even be able to fall asleep. He had tried to convince himself that his being in conflict with Lupin did not play along in this, but deep down inside he knew it was a lie.

During those few last weeks he had spent more time with Lupin than with any other person during the last several years. Although they had not talked much besides their moves, Severus had, as he had to admit, enjoyed the other man's presence. He had even found himself looking forward to their appointments. Lupin's calm manner, the soothing air he seemed to have around him, his friendly smiles… all these had somehow touched Severus, had made him wish to befriend the man. Just like he had wished to do so many years ago at school…

But of course, now as then, this had been a downright ridiculous idea, as he now had to admit. Why should Lupin ever want to mess about with him? Especially now, after what he had said about Black, this insolent mutt, whose death he did not bemoan at all. Well, of course Black had not really deserved to die… and it certainly was not beneficial to their purpose that Potter had lost his – however incompetent – godfather… and, first of all, Lupin had lost the man he loved. It must have been very hard for him after just having found him again.

_'Wait - do I actually care about Lupin's well-being?'_ Hell was freezing over.

_'And why not? Lupin seemed to care about you, too.'_ Yes, this was something he had in vain tried to understand during the last weeks. Why had Lupin wanted to spend time with him in the first place?

_'Friendship and love, those are things you never had and never will have. And no wonder no one wants to mess about with you…'_ Severus knew this was true, and as Lupin obviously was of the same opinion, why the hell had he invited him, why had he cared?

Severus clenched his fists, his body tensing up as he tried to banish every emotion from his mind and heart. There was no point in allowing himself to brood over it, he told himself. These were nothing but futile questions, a waste of time and energy. It was over, and he should simply forget about it, lock it in some distant corner of his mind and throw the key away.

Control yourself. Think rational. Be productive. Be useful.

He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply. Think rational. No disturbing emotions. No futile questions.

After some time, it worked. Bit by bit, Severus managed to brush aside the irritating feelings and thoughts. He felt a strange kind of calm take him over – strange, because he did not really feel relieved, as he had thought he would, but rather… as if he had lost something that was important to him, although he did not know why, or what this would be.

Just when he asked himself what the hell this could mean, he heard someone ask if he was at home. Since he had been too absorbed with his thoughts, he had not recognised the person's voice. Who would want to visit him? he wondered.

"Enter!" he said curtly, getting up from his chair and turning towards the entrance.

The portrait that guarded the entrance swung open, and Severus's breath caught. He had expected anyone but the man who was now entering his quarters, smiling as his eyes fell on the Potions Master. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Severus found his voice again.

"Lupin!"


	10. I'm Sorry

**Chapter 10 - I'm Sorry**

Had the Dark Lord himself stepped in and declared his engagement to a Muggle woman, Severus could not have been more surprised. Lupin, however, either did not notice or else he chose to overlook Severus's puzzlement.

"Good evening. I hope I didn't disturb you with anything?" he said. "I just thought I could come down and see if everything's all right with you. It's half past eight already, and you didn't send a note or a house elf to tell me you wouldn't come."

Severus gaped at the other man in outright bewilderment. The two of them had not talked to each other since last Saturday, and now Lupin simply came to his private rooms and behaved as if nothing had happened! Severus felt rage surge up from within. How could the werewolf just turn up and play ideal world? He opened his mouth to sneer at the man, to ask him if he truly was so imbecile as to believe he would be welcomed with open arms, to tell him to go to hell –

_Fear. Shouting. Blows. Pain. The feeling of utter helplessness. Tears. I'm sorry, Daddy. Worthless. More tears. Guilt. Soothing whispers. It's all right, you needn't be afraid. Gentleness. Caressing hands. I'm here, you are safe. Being held. Lupin._

Severus's mouth snapped shut. He stared at the werewolf, who simply looked back at him. The anger was almost gone, had vanished in an instant. Severus did not quite understand why. He only knew that he did not truly want Lupin to leave. Something inside him wanted to take this chance, realised that it was important. Just minutes ago he had felt desperate about the prospect of not seeing Lupin again - and now he was here.

"No, I… everything's fine, no need to worry," he finally managed to answer his colleague's question.

_'And why didn't he send a house-elf himself to ask whether or not I would still come, instead of coming all the way down here?'_ What Lupin had said sounded rather illogical.

"I just… forgot about the time. It's been a long day," he went on, deciding to just play along and wait what would come of this. If Lupin had decided to just ignore Severus's poor behaviour from a week ago... if he had chosen to ignore the whole incident, then he, Severus, could do the same.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Lupin said. "As I'm here now anyway, we could play here tonight, what do you think? You do have a chessboard, don't you?"

Severus found himself at a loss of words, something that did not happen very often. He felt strangely relieved. It had not added to his well-being that during this week his 'master' had summoned his followers twice, one meeting having taken place just after today's last class. Luckily, Lucius had not been present, but it still had been anything but pleasant. Lupin would detract him from thinking about this.

"Yes," he finally brought out. "Of course I have one." He went over to the shelf on the right side of the room and returned with a large chessboard which he then placed at the table. Both men sat down, and, as usual, Lupin was the first to make a move. Watching his colleague, Severus more and more realised that he was absurdly glad about the other man's presence. He did not want to think about how the evening would have proceeded without Lupin turning up.

After Severus had lost the game in about an hour and a half - something he could not have cared less about – Lupin got up.

"Thank you for the evening," he said. "What about next week? Should I come down again?"

Some part of his mind still wondering how he had landed in this surreal dream, Severus answered, "No, I think your rooms are fine; I have gotten used to it."

"Well then, good night," Lupin nodded and turned to the exit, leaving behind a severely confused Potions Master.

* * *

Remus had been extremely relieved that he had not been kicked out immediately – something he had expected almost for sure when entering Severus's rooms.

Now that he knew that Severus was using a Glamour Charm, Remus was easily able to look behind this masquerade, even when the charm was not wearing off as it had done from time to time during the last weeks. Once you knew such a charm was being used, the countercharm could be performed quite effortlessly and without being noticed. In seeing the pale, tired out man standing by the fireside, immediately adopting a defensive posture at the sight of another person, a hard knot had built in his chest. How should he ever be able to look Severus in the eyes when all he could think of was how unforgivably he, Remus, had behaved a week ago?

Somehow he had managed to overcome this sensation, as well as the urge to immediately apologise for his harsh words, fearing that if he brought up the subject, it would again cause ill-feeling between them. So instead, he had merely pretended everything to be all right – and Severus had seemed to be willing to play along. Of course, had the other man confronted him and insisted on speaking about it, he would have apologised, but in a way, he was glad it had not been necessary.

The next week went by in a state of wary truce. Unlike the previous week, during which he had simply not known how to address Severus, Remus tried to exchange some words with him during the meals every day, his attempts being rewarded with hesitant answers.

Friday evening was awkward. The two men were sitting in Remus's rooms, the latter vainly trying to concentrate on the chess game, while all he could think of was how he could ease off the situation.

Obviously Severus was absorbed in his own thoughts as well, again playing below his standard.

Finally, after two hours of rather pointless draws and counterattacks, the game ended in a tie and Severus left, Remus feeling utterly frustrated with the whole situation. He needed to do something about it.

* * *

Severus strode through the corridors, his robes whirling behind him as he hurried towards the east wing and Lupin's rooms. It was Friday again, December 11th, and ever since Lupin had unexpectedly turned up in the dungeons two weeks ago, Severus had found himself struggling with an odd desire he had not felt since he had left his father's house.

He wanted to apologise.

When this idea had occurred to him first, he had brushed it aside with an angry snort. Of all the inane flowery phrases which ruled most people's behaviour towards one another, apologising was certainly the most pointless one. It seemed that at last – probably caused by all the recent stress - he was going insane. Or perhaps idiocy was infectious after all, and he had finally contracted it after living so many years amongst imbecile students.

Still annoyed with himself, he arrived at Lupin's chambers. His colleague greeted him with a cautious smile, and they settled down to begin the game. Severus was well aware of the tension that had been between him and Lupin ever since the latter's visit to the dungeons – something that seemed to make it even more of a necessity to apologise, as he was certain it was a result of his insulting words. At the moment, however, he could simply not overcome his inhibitions.

'I'm sorry.' How many times had he spoken those words, meaning them with all his heart, desperately wishing to somehow make up for whatever he had done to displease the man he had called father? It had not helped at all. If anything, his father had regarded him with even more contempt, calling him a 'pathetic washout' who was not worthy of the name of Snape. Finally, Severus had given up apologising, long before he had finished school.

Except for one time during those endless days in the dungeon sixteen years ago… this one time, when Lucius had once again told him how nauseating it was to even look at him.

"I… I'm sorry…" Severus had whispered, trembling, bleeding, the last remains of his dignity, like himself, lying shattered on the ground. Even when Lucius had long left, he head not been able to stop whimpering "I'm sorry," again and again, only the darkness listening to his apology for being alive.

Severus gritted his teeth, forcing the memory to retreat to whatever dark corner of his mind it had crept out of. No, apologising never made things better, that he knew for sure. So why then would this accursed feeling not leave him alone?

"Snape?" Lupin's voice suddenly startled him from his thoughts. "I think we… we need to talk."

Focussing his attention at the other man, Severus noticed him to look rather nervous. What could this mean? he wondered.

"About what?"

"You see… I'm sorry," Lupin said in a low voice, looking straight into Severus's eyes, an expression of complete sincerity on his face. "I'm sorry about my words on Saturday. I didn't mean to hurt you, but… I just lost my temper. It was inexcusable."

Severus's first thought was to say that yes, indeed, it was inexcusable, and that Lupin should go to hell – until he realised that this was an instinctive reaction and he did not truly mean it.

His second notion was to ask why Lupin should want to apologise, what he had said three weeks ago being nothing but the truth – until he realised that it was far too personal a thing to say.

Moreover, the strange sensation of warmth and relief which he now felt take him over from within made him forget about those thoughts. _'I'm sorry.'_ These simple words, which had always seemed so pathetic when he had spoken them, had managed to take away most of the pain that had still welled up in him every time he had seen his colleague and remembered his words. Surely Lupin felt the same about him. Maybe he should…

_'A Snape does not apologise! A Snape never does anything that would require an apology. Apologising is for the weak!'_ he heard the litany in his mind. Every time he had been berated for apologising, he had felt the absurd urge to instantly apologise again. It had been so confusing, so humiliating…

Merlin, this was hard. Nevertheless, Severus forced himself to speak. This was too important to let himself be ruled by the past. "Never mind. I… provoked you. In regard to what I said that evening – I did not intend to insult you. I was… upset, because there had been a summoning beforehand. Of course this is no appropriate excuse for my -"

"It is," Lupin cut him off in a soft tone. Severus was stunned. When he did not answer, Lupin went on, "I accept your apology," smiling at him warmly.

For the second time in this evening, Severus felt incredibly relieved. "Thank you," he murmured - quite unintentionally - staring at the chessboard, where, as he noticed, one of his rooks was about to be knocked down by Lupin's queen as soon as he would make the next draw.

"It's nothing," was the soft answer. "I enjoy your company. I don't want to lose it because of some stupid argument."

Severus swallowed hard. He did not know what to say, as no one had ever said such a thing to him. "I… appreciate this time, too," he finally brought out, his voice as indifferent as he could manage. When he shot Lupin a short glance, he again earned a warm smile – one of those smiles which three years ago had annoyed him beyond reason. They no longer did. Severus found himself thinking that he could get used to this.

"And Snape? Thank you for forgiving me."

They did not talk much after that, but the silence was no longer an uncomfortable one, and when some time afterwards Severus left for his own chambers, he had the feeling that at least one thing in his life might change for the better.

* * *

In the late afternoon of December 22nd, a Wednesday, Remus was in his office and just putting the grindylows he had shown to his second-year class back into the aquarium, when there was a knocking at the door.

"Come in, please," he said, turning towards the door, which opened to reveal a sixteen-year-old boy with messy black hair and spectacled green eyes.

"Harry!" Remus was honestly surprised. Since the beginning of the term Harry had not come once to see him, although he had offered it to the boy while they had been at Grimmauld Place at the end of the holidays. If Harry wanted to talk, Remus had let him know, then he would be there to listen.

Harry, however, had not taken this offer but, as it seemed, had withdrawn more and more into himself. He had looked pale and depressed and thinner than he used to be, and he had not paid much attention even in Defense Against the Dark Arts, his favourite class. Several times, Remus had tried to talk to him, but every time his concerned questions had fallen on deaf ears, Harry telling him that everything was fine and he did not need to worry.

Of course worrying had exactly been what Remus had done, and, asking Ron and Hermione about it, he had been even more concerned when they had told him that Harry had withdrawn from his best friends, too. However, there had been nothing he could have done to help it other than asking Harry's friends to keep a close eye on him, which he knew they would do anyway. He had talked about it to Albus as well, but the headmaster had not been able to tell him anything more, since Harry had been even more reserved toward the old wizard than toward Remus.

"Um… hello," Harry greeted now, seeming slightly uneasy.

"What can I do for you?" Remus asked.

"I just wanted to wish you Happy Christmas. Tomorrow I'll be going to The Burrow with Ron and Ginny."

So at least Harry would not spend the holidays alone in Gryffindor tower, Remus thought. He doubted whether the company of the few teachers left in the castle during the holidays – in fact, only Albus, Severus and himself – would have been the right means to cheer the boy up.

"That's great," he replied. "Just the thought of Molly's Christmas dinner makes me envious. Tell her and Arthur Happy Christmas from me, will you?"

"Sure, I'll do that. And it's not like the house elves don't make a great Christmas Dinner, so you've no reason to complain. I remember that in my third year you seemed to like their cooking a lot. On Christmas you had three servings – and three desserts as well."

There was an unmistakable irony in Harry's saying this, which made Remus watch him more closely. He was relieved to see that the shadows under his eyes were not as heavy as they had been during the last weeks, and he didn't appear so gaunt anymore.

"You are looking better," he said softly, not knowing whether or not it was a good idea to mention it.

"Yeah…" Harry murmured. "Actually, I'm feeling better. I was… kind of depressed because of… because of Sirius…" he paused for some moments, the thought of his dead godfather obviously still hurting. "I thought it was my fault that he died…"

"Harry, you know that's not true!" Remus could not help interrupting the boy.

"Yes, I know. Don't worry," Harry answered. "I know it was rather stupid, and I was almost losing it, but… Ron and Hermione… they're helping me with it." A faint smile lit his still pale face. "They're great friends."

Remus found himself to be extremely relieved in hearing this. "I'm glad you're better, Harry," he said. "I was truly worried about you."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry, Professor."

"It's Remus, remember?" He had asked Harry to call him by his first name at the last day at headquarters. "And you don't have to apologise. I know… it must be very hard for you."

Harry nodded briefly. "So what will you do at Christmas?" he asked, obviously wanting to switch subjects. "Just stay here and probably have four desserts this time?"

"Exactly," Remus smiled. "Just enjoy Christmas Dinner and the silence. Every now and then it's nice not to have so many people around. And this year almost everyone's gone, besides Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and me."

"Then you'd probably be better off leaving, too," Harry said with a sour undertone. "Snape's not the kind of person I'd want to spend Christmas with. I doubt he even knows what it is, or at least that's how he was behaving today. Well, actually it wasn't any different from normal. Just scowling at everyone, ranting about our incredible incompetence, and so on."

Hearing this, Remus found himself frowning. "You know, Harry, you shouldn't judge him that harshly. Think about what he's doing for us. It's definitely not fun having to face Voldemort every other day."

Harry looked slightly puzzled. "Maybe," he admitted. "But still… he wouldn't die of being less grumpy, just one time a year. And I don't see how constantly being told about my obvious lack of brains should miraculously cure me from the disease of stupidity."

Remus chuckled at the last remark. "That's true," he replied.

"So, er… I've got to go," Harry said. "Still have some packing to do. Hermione'll get mad at me if I do it tomorrow morning instead of now."

"Oh, we can't have that," Remus smiled. "Have a good time, Harry."

"Thanks. You, too… Remus." With this Harry left. Remus sat down at his desk, feeling more than relieved that Harry had finally accepted help from people who cared about him. He only hoped that some day Severus, too, would be able to do so.

* * *

Friday evening, Christmas Eve, found Severus in Lupin's rooms, sitting in a red wing-chair, a glass of wine in hand and – at last, after weeks of defeats – being on the best way to win a game of chess. There had not been a single summoning during the last ten days, and he was feeling slightly better since he had thankfully been able to sleep more than two or three hours in the previous nights.

Observing his colleague's face as the latter commanded his knight to move, Severus knew this to be a desperate attempt to avert defeat. During the last two months, he had come to learn quite a lot about Lupin's tactics, about his typical draws, about the way his eyes would briefly light up when he was pleased with his last move.

"There's no point in that," he said. "It won't save you."

"No, I guess not," Lupin admitted. "I fear I have my mind on other things tonight."

Severus did not ask what those would be. They did not talk about personal matters, as the chance for an argument resulting from it was far too large. It had been a kind of silent agreement between the two of them since that Saturday in November, and he was determined to adhere to it. And what should he want to know about Lupin's private life anyway? Probably a great deal of the man's thoughts were dealing with Black and, of course, Potter. He was not in the least interested in hearing anything about those two.

After Severus had beaten the knight with one of his rooks, Lupin looked resignedly at the chessboard. "No more than about five draws until it's over. You were right."

"It's about time that I win again," Severus said, pleased with himself. He had refilled his glass, and pleasant warmth was spreading through his limbs.

"On Wednesday, Harry came to my office."

Severus blinked, irritated.

"Did you notice there was something wrong with him since summer?" Lupin went on.

Severus snorted. "Of course I did. How should I not? Almost every lesson with him was a complete catastrophe. I stopped counting how often he blew up his cauldron or how many students I had to send to the infirmary because of his incompetence." Hopefully, this would silence Lupin. Severus did not want to talk about Potter, of all people. The mere thought of the boy irritated him. Why the hell did Lupin approach that subject now?

"He's better now," Lupin said.

Was he supposed to cheer or clap his hands? Well, at least he no longer had to fear for the boy to go and throw himself at the Dark Lord's feet in an attempted suicide, arising from mere self-pity.

"It was about time that he pulled himself together," he answered.

Lupin furrowed his brow. "He had a hard time after… after his godfather's death." Was there a glint of sadness in his eyes? "He told me about your classes."

So that was what Lupin was getting at. Severus could perfectly imagine Potter whining about being treated unfair. "Already feeling well enough to again begin complaining, is he?" he sneered.

"No, he didn't complain. He just said it wouldn't hurt if you were a little more civil toward everyone, at least now. After all, it's Christmas."

Christmas. Why, that was a reason, of course. At least to Potter, or any other of those spoiled brats, or romanticists like Lupin.

"I have not celebrated Christmas since I was seven years old," Severus replied harshly.

Lupin seemed stunned. "Why not?"

Why not. A bitter taste suddenly filled Severus's mouth. Thirty years ago, on Christmas morning, a seven-year-old Severus Snape had insisted on having answered the very same question, realising the lacking of a Christmas tree. His father had answered by giving him a good thrashing, and he had spent the rest of the day, as well as the night, in the small room in the cellar that his father had thought to be quite the right place for him on many occasions since he had been about four. It was cold and damp, and he had never had a candle. At first he had hated this room, but as always father had to be right. When he had kept on telling him that he belonged there, Severus had believed it. He had no longer hated the cellar. But what a kind of person must he be to belong in such a place?

"My… my father never believed in it. After my mother died, Christmas didn't exist at our house." This was not what he had intended to say! It must be the wine. He shouldn't drink on an empty stomach, not having eaten anything since his rather small breakfast.

Noticing the irritatingly sympathetic expression on Lupin's face, Severus directed his gaze at the chessboard and quickly went on, "To me the whole thing is nothing but a waste of time and energy. Everyone says we should be so happy at this time of year - look around yourself! Tell me people look happy to you! I see and hear more fights at Christmas than at any other time. People are tense, all busy preparing for the holiday. People are busy getting ready to go home. And even in private homes - on Christmas day people are so absorbed in making dinner and unwrapping presents that they cannot bother to spare a kind word for each other. Those who preach the 'Christmas spirit' are nothing but hypocrites."

He did not look up, and some minutes went by before Lupin spoke. "When I was small, I believed Christmas to be the most wonderful time of the year. I loved getting presents, of course, but what made it really special was something else. It was the same tradition every year, and when I had finished school and even during the war, it stayed that way. I didn't lead a very steady life after the war, but until my parents died, whenever I would come home for Christmas it was as if I had never left. My family never made a fuss about Christmas. No hectically shopping, no great festivity with many guests. What made it special was that I knew I was at home, with people who loved me."

He paused for some moments, and when he went on, his voice was very soft and quiet. "I know it's naïve, and many people don't believe in it… but I think that's what Christmas really is about. Being with your family and friends. Just enjoying their company."

Severus was unable to answer and merely kept staring at the chessboard.

When some minutes later Lupin asked him to spend the afternoon of Christmas Day with him, he found himself accepting without thinking twice.


	11. Bah, Humbug!

**Disclaimer:** All quotes are taken from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 11 – Bah, Humbug!**

On Christmas Morning, Remus did not go to the Great Hall for breakfast. It had been rather late when Severus had left, so Remus had decided on sleeping in, and when he awoke it was already 9:45 in the morning. When he was sitting at the dining table in his living room, eating a small breakfast, a tapping noise at the window caught his attention. He went over to the window, and when he had opened it, a large, white owl, which was carrying a packet, swept into the room.

"Hedwig!"

The snowy owl hooted softly and decided on landing on the dining table. Remus followed her and took the packet that was addressed at him. Unwrapping the paper, he wondered what Harry would want to send him. It was, as it turned out, a book, entitled **A Christmas Carol** by Charles Dickens.

With the book was an envelope. Remus took the parchment out and read:

_'Dear Remus, _

I hope you're fine – I am, since Mrs. Weasley was shocked when she saw me at King's Cross, and now she's fussing over me all the time.

I found this book in a Muggle bookshop – after we went to Diagon Alley on Thursday, I was able convince Mrs. Weasley to go to Muggle London – and I thought you could like it. I must admit that I read through it yesterday, and I think it's great.

I must stop now, because Mrs. Weasley will get a little… overprotective if I don't turn up for dinner on time. She always wants to make sure that I eat enough. To tell the truth, I'm feeling a little like she wants to fatten me up – I can never finish what she dishes up.

Happy Christmas, Remus!

Harry'

When he had finished reading, Remus kept staring absent-mindedly at the letter. He felt more than a little embarrassed at the fact that Harry had sent him a Christmas present, whereas he had not been able to afford presents for anyone. He had thought about buying one at least for Harry and Severus, but it had been simply impossible. Sighing, Remus looked around in his living room. When he had come to Hogwarts again, he had been tired of living in rooms with furniture that was not his own – all those skimpy, furnished apartments during the last years, and then Grimmauld Place, which no one in their right minds could call homey – and so he had decided on buying new furniture for his rooms at Hogwarts, which he would pay by instalments. Unfortunately, this left him with practically no money to spend on anything else.  
On the other hand… maybe it was rather good that he did not have a present for Severus. It could have embarrassed him, since they were not really what could be called 'friends'. It might have been too much in too short a time. He should be content with Severus having accepted the invitation, he told himself.

Moreover, he had not the slightest idea what he should have bought for the Potions Master. What did he know about his interests – besides potions and chess? He doubted he could have found any book on potions that Severus did not already possess or know of…

A soft picking at his fingers tore Remus out of his thoughts.

"Oh, Hedwig," he said to the owl, which hooted in response, "just wait a minute." He went over to the desk and quickly wrote an answer to the letter. Once the roll of parchment was tied to Hedwig's leg, she spread her large wings and, after a last hoot, swept out of the window.

After finishing his breakfast, Remus had plenty of time before he would meet Severus for lunch in the Great Hall and, not having anything else to do, he settled down on the sofa and began reading the book Harry had sent him.

* * *

At the same time, Severus was working in his private lab, brewing some healing potions for the infirmary storage, which needed stocking up until the end of the holidays. Incredible as it was, the students had managed to inflict so much damage on themselves in only four months of school that the infirmary's supply of potions was almost used up by now. Of course, it was not really necessary to begin this work on Christmas morning, but it was a welcome distraction from tonight's events.

And from what was to come in the afternoon. Thinking more deeply about it, Severus slightly doubted it to be a wise decision to spend a whole afternoon with Lupin. What could they possibly do all this time? They could not play chess all along, and he did not know anything about the man's interests. What were they supposed to talk about? Their work? Well, that would be Potions, for his own part. He could not help smirking, while carefully slicing the asphodel roots. When it came to Potions, Lupin was almost as incompetent as Longbottom, or Potter. Irritated, Severus shook his head. Certainly there were more enjoyable things to think of at Christmas morning than Harry Potter. Thankfully, the boy had left for the holidays with his red-headed minions, and Severus would not have to endure the sight of him until the beginning of the new year.

Adding the sliced roots to the boiling, plum liquid in one of the bigger cauldrons, Severus again began wondering about possible topics for a conversation, ignoring the nagging question why he even cared. Defence Against The Dark Arts perhaps? They were both familiar with the subject, Lupin being the current teacher and he himself applying for the position every year. Severus scowled at the thought. Albus would never give him this position, he knew, so it was futile to constantly do so. And yet – every year he would try again, his sense of duty not letting him rest until he again received Albus's denial.

He did not really desire to teach Defence, since he was quite content with his current position. Potions had always been his special subject, but, knowing more about the Dark Arts than any of the previous teachers, he felt that it was his duty to teach those children how to defend themselves against them. It was his blasted duty to teach Potter, above all, how to defend himself.

Potter - again! Angrily, Severus uncorked a bottle and almost poured too much salamander blood into the strengthening potion. As if it was not bad enough that he had to deal with him during classes, no, the brat haunted his mind even when physically absent, like he always would.

A hissing noise and silver steam, deriving from a cauldron on the opposite side of the lab, caught Severus's attention, and he eagerly threw his mind on the distraction. Slowly, ignoring the dull thudding in his right knee, he walked over to the cauldron, which contained a potion the Dark Lord had required from him. It was a first attempt on a liquid Imperius Curse and would be tested on the Muggles they had captured the previous night.

Of course there had to be a summoning and a Muggle hunting party the night before Christmas Day. Hauling off unsuspecting, innocent Muggles from their families, at now of all possible times, was just what the Dark Lord's perverted mind would come up with, Severus thought in disgust. Fortunately, he had not had to participate in this activity. Instead, he had been questioned about his proceedings concerning the Imperius Potion, which he should have had finished tonight. It had been of no use to explain his impatient Dark Lord that it had been completely illusionary to believe such an experimental potion could be concocted properly in so short a time.

His master had not been pleased, and Severus had been placed under the Cruciatus curse repeatedly. During this he somehow must have injured his right knee, for when he had returned to Hogwarts some time beyond midnight, he had hardly been able to walk, stabbing pain making him grit his teeth and almost moan aloud whenever he strained the leg. He had downed a vial of the most potent painkilling potion he had on store and then had tried to get some refreshing sleep. But – although this time he fortunately had not been exposed to Lucius' presence, the latter having been the leader of the 'hunting party' – he had tried in vain. The few hours of sleep until morning had been shredded by dreams and thoughts, and finally, at about 5:30 in the morning, Severus had begun working to occupy his mind.

Severus focussed his attention on the cauldron in front of him. The colour of its contents reminded him of the silvery liquid that thoughts would turn in when placed in a Pensieve. A Pensieve… Potter, whose head was sticking in his, Severus's, Pensieve. Suddenly beholding this image before his inner eye, Severus snorted in exasperation. This boy was going to be the death of him in one way or another. If he was not killed sooner or later in an attempt to save the brat from whatever kind of trouble he seemed so skilled in getting himself into, then he would go insane with brooding over the person he wished to think of least.  
Adding belladonna essence and then stirring the potion in slow, anticlockwise motions, Severus tried to ban the irritating thoughts, still hoping to be able to find the tranquillity he normally derived from his work. Whenever he was upset, whenever he needed to occupy his mind, he would lock himself up in his lab. Brewing potions was not labour but almost a kind of relaxation. Potions were not uncontrollable like people. If you stuck to the prescription, you were in perfect control. Severus hated nothing more than unforeseen events. Such as the incident with Potter and the pensieve…

Finding the boy snooping around in his memories had put him over the edge and deprived him of any rationality. Severus had not freed himself of those images before the Occlumency lesson without reason - after Potter had indeed managed to get a glimpse of Severus's parents arguing, he had thought it wiser to rid his mind of the most unpleasant parts of his past before every lesson. He most certainly did not wish Potter, of all people, to know about certain events. Damnit, the whole affair with Lucius was in there! What if Potter had witnessed it? Seldom did Severus lose control in this extreme way, but this time he had been beside himself with rage - and even more with fear. How much had Potter seen?

Severus had been frantic about this question. After the boy had fled from his office, he had roughly guessed the time he had been away and then had – as much as he hated it – watched his own memories, actually checking how long he needed to do so. He had had no words to describe his relief when he had noticed that Potter's visit in his thoughts had been far too short to see anything but the unpleasant incident at the day of his O.W.L. tests - although this was embarrassing enough to make him refuse to continue the Occlumency lessons. No one, and least Potter, had the right to spy on him in this way.

Well, at least Potter now had learnt that his father indeed had been every bit as smug and reckless as Severus had always told him. He felt a certain grim satisfaction at this. No, James Potter had by no means been a saint; he had been a stupid, careless, arrogant snob.

A snob whom Severus had owed a life debt – and he had miserably failed to pay it.

No! Severus shook his head in a vain attempt to banish the self-accusing thought. It was bad enough to be attacked by it every time he had to face the bloody carbon copy of James. How he had for almost ten years dreaded the day that Potter would come to attend his first year at Hogwarts! And seeing the boy for the first time had been harder than he had ever imagined. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the living remembrance of his failure…

Bubbling noises from the cauldron drew Severus's attention back to his work. The potion had changed its colour from silver into a translucent blue, which indicated that now it was the time to add the powdered dragon horn. Carefully, he weighed the first small portion and poured it into the mixture, then stirred several minutes before repeating his action. The potion needed three ounces of the powder, but if more than five grams were added at once, it would explode. Outmost concentration was required, and Severus, eager to escape his brooding, was completely taken up in his work for the next hours.

* * *

The early afternoon found Lupin and Severus at the skirts of the Forbidden Forest. After Christmas Dinner Lupin had proposed a walk, and Severus had accepted, far too proud to mention his injured leg. Moreover, a walk was the best possibility to kill time and make small talk. One could comment on the weather, the landscape or the creatures of the forest for example, instead of awkwardly searching for a topic both of them would find interesting.

Severus deeply inhaled the crisp air and listened half-heartedly to Lupin, who was talking about the Acromantulas which were living in the depths of the forest. Due to his knee, which kept throbbing and made him limp a little in spite of his best efforts, he had to concentrate more on the snowy and uneven ground than on his colleague's words.

.-.-.-.-.

"…never understand just why Hagrid had to give it the opportunity to breed! I mean, honestly, who needs even more of those spiders here on – Severus!"

Remus had barely time to react when Severus suddenly cried out painfully, and it was only in the last moment that he caught him and prevented him from falling. The sudden surge of adrenaline slowly abating, Remus found his own face only centimetres away from the other man's. For some indefinable reason he felt paralysed, staring into the deep, black eyes, which were oddly becoming to Severus's white face. Some singular snowflakes settled down on the raven hair. Everything about Severus seemed to be either black or white; he seemed to be made of contrasts which were matching up in a magnetic way. Remus became strangely aware of the body in his arms, and a tingling sensation began to spread though him – and then the moment was gone.

.-.-.-.-.

Hastily, Severus pulled back and stumbled a step backwards, only to feel his right leg give in, which again made him fall and this time actually hit the ground.

"Snape, are you alright?" Lupin's worried voice asked.

"Damned tree roots… can't see them through the snow," Severus grumbled. Looking up into his colleague's concerned face, he said "I'm fine, don't worry," and tried to stand up. A sharp pain instantly raced through his knee, and only a second later he found himself again lying on the cold ground.

Trying to keep his anger under control, he scanned his knee. It was swollen considerably, and even this slight touch made him wince with pain. Great! That was the last thing he needed! Swearing under his breath, Severus tried again to get up. There was no other option. He would have to walk back.

"You can't walk," Lupin stated quietly when Severus found himself on the ground for the third time. "Let me help you."

Severus closed his eyes, trying to brace himself. He was not able to walk on his own, therefore Lupin would help him back to the castle. It was logical; it was the obvious thing to do.  
He would have to touch him.

Opening his eyes, he saw Lupin standing in front of him, with a hand outstretched to help him up. There was an odd expression of pain on his face that Severus did not understand. He blinked, and it was gone. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and took the offered hand.

.-.-.-.-.

"We're almost there."

Hearing those words, Severus thanked whatever godhood there might be for people like him. After half of the distance, he had not even been able to walk with his colleague's support anymore, his knee giving in with every step. Therefore, Lupin was carrying him now, and it was a most disturbing experience, to say the least.

On the one hand he felt the pushing desire to break free and, if need be, crawl the remaining way back to the castle to be delivered from the touch and the humiliation all this brought about. On the other hand, and this was what was upsetting him even more, his current position evoked in him remembrances of the night at Grimmauld Place. Lupin's arms around him, holding him close… it made him wish to simply close his eyes and rest his head on the other man's shoulder, a strange inner voice promising a feeling of security if he did so.

And what exactly had happened back there, when he had tripped over that accursed root? Slowly recovering from the atrocious pain, he had realised that he had not fallen down but that someone was holding him. When the world had come back to focus, he had found himself face to face with Lupin, and somehow he had not been able to move or look away for some slow seconds. Instead, he had been fascinated by a snowflake that was melting on the other man's cheek, and by those amazingly intense brown eyes…

"Just a few minutes, I can already see the castle," Lupin's voice tore him out of his musing.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, gratefully leaving those disturbing thoughts behind.

.-.-.-.-.

"Thank Merlin," Remus heard Severus murmur. Only too well did he understand what exactly was troubling the Potions Master. Even through the thick, lined coats they were wearing, he could feel the slight tremors which were running through the alarmingly light body in his arms. When he had offered to help him, he had seen the unadulterated fear in the other man's eyes – a sight which had deeply saddened him. He headed towards the castle as quickly as possible, not wanting Severus to have to endure his touch longer than necessary.

And yet – a small, irritating voice at the back of his mind which he tried to blind out as much as possible kept telling him just how right it felt to hold this man, how good Severus fitted into his arms, how much he liked having him that close.

"Where are you going?" came Severus's voice.

Clearing his thoughts, Remus noticed that he automatically had taken the way to his private rooms.

"My rooms are nearer than the dungeons," he replied. "You can take the Floo from there."

Severus nodded. "Sounds reasonable."

.-.-.-.-.

When they had arrived, Lupin placed Severus on the large sofa, the injured leg outstretched. Relief and, to his utmost confusion, a prick of disappointment surged up in Severus at the loss of contact.

"I have some painkillers here," Lupin said, disappearing behind a door. Meanwhile, Severus rid himself of his wet, heavy cloak and let it fall unceremoniously on the floor beside him. Some moments later his colleague returned with a vial that he handed Severus. "Poppy's not here, but I could get you a mediwizard, if you like."

"No, thank you," Severus replied after downing the potion. "I'll see to it myself later. I have… some experience."

"What happened to your leg?" Lupin inquired, taking off his cloak and sitting down in his own chair. "You were limping a little even before tripping over that root."

"There was a summoning tonight," Severus stated hesitatingly. "I was supposed to have finished a new potion, a liquid Imperius, but it was not ready yet. I was punished. It must have happened then. I… don't remember the details." Just why had he told this now?

"Cruciatus?" Lupin asked quietly.

Severus did not answer.

"I'm sorry." The honest sympathy on Lupin's face abashed Severus to the core.

"Don't be!" he replied harshly. "Not for me. Save your pity for the Muggles they dragged out of their homes yesterday night to be the guinea pigs for the potion. Men, women and children, so its effects can be studied on as many different people as possible. They will drink it, and they will die. All of them." He tried to keep his voice indifferent. "The potion is a first attempt, and I doubt it will work correctly. They hardly ever do, and certainly not if they are brewed in a hurry, like this one. If anything, it will corrode their stomachs and they will die, spouting blood and frazzles of their own bowels." His throat was incredibly dry, his voice raspy. "I will watch. And when they are dead, I will conduct autopsies on the corpses to understand the effects the potion had on them. I will learn from my mistakes and change the prescription accordingly. Then I will brew a new one. And test it. The procedure will be repeated as many times as necessary."

Reaching the end of his speech, Severus had closed his eyes. He had no idea why he had told Lupin this, did not know why suddenly he had felt the upsetting urge to confide this horrid part of his task as the Dark Lord's Potions Master to him, nor why now that he had gotten it off his chest he felt relieved in a way he had never known.

His words were rewarded with a silence that made him keep his eyes downcast. The relief dwindled quickly. As the minutes crept by, he felt the familiar chain entwine around his chest. Breathing was becoming difficult.

Severus chided himself for feeling so miserable about a werewolf's rejection. How pathetic he was! Moreover, wasn't Lupin right? All the lives he would take… all the lives he had taken before… Their eyes would never leave him; wide with fear, silently begging him to have mercy on them…

"I should go," he finally ground out, feeling desperately tired.

"Would you care for a bite to eat first?"

Confusedly looking up and meeting the other man's gaze, Severus saw a mixture of sadness and understanding in the hazel eyes that he had only known from Albus before.

"You didn't have that much for lunch," Lupin went on in that soothingly soft voice of his, "and I'm hungry as a hunter."

A bunch of heat exploded in Severus's stomach as he realised the pure, unconfined acceptance behind the invitation. It spread through his torso and limbs, making him feel shaky and slightly dizzy as it reached his head. The chain around his chest loosened. Slowly, he nodded, not trusting his own voice.

A small smile appeared on Lupin's face. "Dobby!" he called, clicking his fingers.

With a "pop" the most odd-looking house-elf Severus had ever seen appeared. He was wearing two oversized, mismatched socks, a maroon jumper, and on his head he balanced a ridiculous amount of what seemed to be badly knitted egg cosies.

"What can Dobby do for Professor Lupin, sir?" he squeaked.

"We need something to eat for two people, Dobby," Lupin told him. "Leftovers from Christmas Dinner will be fine, I think. And some Mince Pie and… tea, Snape?" Severus nodded. "And tea, please," Lupin finished.

"Yes, Professor Lupin, sir! Dobby will be right back!" the house-elf said eagerly and bowed so low that his long nose almost scratched the floor. Severus idly wondered why the odd-shaped hats did not fall from between the floppy ears.

They ate in silence. Dobby had brought a large tray with Mince Pie, Christmas Pudding and other things which did not in the least whet Severus's appetite. Listlessly, he picked at the food.

"You still could have gone to spend the evening with Potter and the Weasleys," he finally said, unable to hold back with what had occupied his mind for quite some time now. Why on earth would Lupin prefer his company to the presence of people he actually liked? People who liked Christmas and most certainly would not effuse bad temper like a leaky cauldron, which he knew was exactly what he was doing most of his waking time. "This can't be your idea of an enjoyable Christmas Day."

* * *

_"James?" _

"No, Sirius, it's me, Remus."

"Please, I didn't… James, believe me…"

"Sirius, listen, it's Remus… everything's alright," Remus said, gently seizing his friend by the shoulders. It was in the evening of December 25th, Christmas Day, and for two days now Sirius had slithered from one attack into the other. This time, however, it was particularly bad.

"No, let me go! You won't get me!" Sirius yelled, struggling free from his friend's grip - Remus had stopped counting how often this had happened now - and huddling flat against the wall. His unfocused eyes were wide with fear.

"Sirius," Remus tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could, "don't be afraid. They won't get you. I'll protect you."

Sirius whimpered. He did not move.

"Shh, it's alright." Slowly, Remus approached his friend. "Don't be afraid. You're safe with me. It's me, Remus. I won't hurt you."

"R-remus?" There was a hint of hope in Sirius's voice.

"Yes, it's Remus. I'm here. Everything's alright."

"Remus, I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't mean t-to… I d-didn't do it, please..." Sirius was nearly hysterical, his voice trembling.

"Shhh, I know," Remus soothed, "don't worry, I know." Slowly, he touched Sirius's arm. When the other man did not shrink back, he came nearer and lightly rested his right hand on his former lover's shoulder. "I know you're innocent," he said. "Everything's going to be alright. Please, trust me."

"Okay," Sirius whispered. Remus frowned, noticing that his eyes were still glassy.

"Sirius, I need you to come back, please." He pulled back his hand to touch his friend's face.

"D-don't leave me," Sirius pleaded at the loss of contact. "Don't leave me alone…" A tear was trickling down his cheek. "Always alone…"

Remus bit his lower lip until he tasted blood. How long would he be able to bear seeing the man he loved suffer like this? "I won't leave you, I'll always be with you. I promise."

"I love you, Remus…"

Remus was almost choking on the pained groan that tried to escape his throat, but he did not let it break free. Instead, he pulled Sirius into a gentle embrace and closed his eyes. He knew his friend was not speaking to him, knew that this was a younger Sirius, declaring a love that had been taken from him during twelve endless years.

"Remus…?" The longing in Sirius's voice hurt.

"Yes, I'm here, I'm here," Remus whispered hoarsely. "I love you, too." He could feel the body in his arms beginning to shake as the tears broke way. "I'm here, Sirius, don't you cry… I'm here, I'll always be."

* * *

Severus noticed an expression of what seemed to be raw pain flicker across the other man's face. In an instant, it was replaced with a small smile.

"I think I've had much worse," Lupin said softly. There was a hint of melancholy in his voice Severus did not know how to sort. Last Christmas Lupin must have spent with his lover, Black. He obviously could not mean that year. But now that Black was dead… maybe Lupin was not in the right mood for all the cheeriness of a full house like The Burrow.

In an attempt to switch subjects, Severus looked around and spotted a book on the table.

"You're reading Dickens?" he asked surprisedly.

"Yes. It's a present from Harry; he sent it this morning. Actually, I've read several others so far. **Great Expectations**, **Oliver Twist** and **Hard Times**. But this one I hadn't read until today." Much like an afterthought Lupin added "Do you know it?"

"I do," Severus replied. "It was the first one I read from Dickens. The others you mentioned I have read as well." He was strangely pleased that there seemed to be something they had in common.

"So?" Lupin asked.

"So… what?"

"So, what do you think about it? It provides a really interesting view on Christmas, don't you think?"

"If you're referring to Scrooge's view, then yes, it does," Severus answered dryly.

Lupin chuckled. "I should have known you would like him in particular," he said. "I bet you can quote him."  
Severus arched a brow. "Indeed."

Lupin suddenly picked up the book from the table and opened it. A couple of seconds he spent with skimming the first pages until he seemed to have found what he had been looking for.

**"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!"** he cried in a cheerful voice.

Severus frowned. He was not supposed to play along in this silliness, now was he? Lupin's eyes twinkled amusedly. Severus liked this better than the pain he head seen there before and wanted it to last.

**"Bah!"** said Severus, **"Humbug!"**

**"Christmas a humbug, uncle!"** read his colleague. **"You don't mean that, I am sure?"**

**"I do,"** said Severus. **"Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."**

**"Come, then,"** returned Lupin gaily. **"What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."**

Severus, sticking to the text they were quoting, said **"Bah!"** again; and followed it up with **"Humbug."**

**"Don't be cross, uncle!"** said Lupin.

**"What else can I be,"** returned Severus, **"when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,"** said Severus indignantly, **"every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"**

Lupin chuckled again, and Severus found himself mentally listing several potions to slowly poison the man if he should dare to make a remark about how fitting this text was for him.

"Well, I for my part would rather stick to nephew Fred and Bob Cratchit," Lupin stated. "And what do you think about the end?"

"It's highly unrealistic. Nonsense," Severus replied disdainfully. "It's for romanticists, for dreamers."  
"Do you like it?"

This was a question he had not expected. Therefore, he replied without thinking "When I read it for the first time, yes. Very much."

"Why?"

"Because I was twelve and naïve and desperately longing for an ideal world. Especially at Christmas." The words were uttered harshly and in intended self-contempt. He did not even know why he had answered truthfully.

"And do you like it still?"

Severus closed his eyes. The calm question would not stop pulling at him.

"Yes."

"Still naïve, then?" Lupin's gentle and understanding tone caused Severus to feel drained. How did it come that this man was so easily able to penetrate his defence?

"Bah! Humbug," he muttered once more. He did not even try to sound convincing.

* * *

Remus and Severus had spent the evening talking about literature and playing an inevitable game of chess, which Severus had won. It had come as an enjoyable surprise that their taste of books was mostly the same, at least as far as the Muggle classics were concerned. Severus did not take that much pleasure in contemporary literature - it seemed that he considered reading anything that had been written after 1900 and was not a Potions book a waste of time.

And light fiction - which Remus every now and then enjoyed quite a lot – seemed to be completely out of the question. Finally, he had succeeded in convincing the Potions Master to at least take a look at Tolkien's **Lord of the Rings**. Some people might consider it a sedative, but to Remus it was the most artfully written fantasy novel which had been published so far, and he thought his colleague might actually like it.

There was another reason, too, that Remus was in high spirits when he finally went to bed at about 10 in the night. When he had come to the Great Hall for Christmas Dinner with Severus and Albus, he had found a roll of parchment at his place which said that this year there would be Christmas bonuses for all the teachers. Remus had been thrilled. Now he could buy a belated Christmas present for Harry – and maybe one or two new robes for himself, since his current ones were not even worth the thread he regularly darned them with.

It was the thought of the line on the bottom of the parchment, though, that made him smile before he finally fell asleep.

_'I think you might find it helpful to know that Severus's birthday is on January 9th.'_

* * *


	12. A Birthday Present

**Chapter 12 – A Birthday Present**

During the next week, Severus spent most of his time in his private lab, busying himself with improving the Imperius Potion and brewing several more healing potions for the infirmary - there could never be enough of those in a place with so many irresponsible and unthinking brats. Moreover, he did his best to convince himself that he was not avoiding Lupin. He could not just leave his potions to themselves to join Lupin and Albus for meals in the Great Hall, and his knee, which, much to his annoyance, was healing rather slowly, made anything but limping about between his numerous cauldrons impossible. So why should he leave his quarters at all?

No, he was not avoiding the werewolf – why should he do so? He enjoyed his colleague's company quite a lot. Lupin was intelligent, literate, humorous, kind, and on Christmas Day he had made Severus feel welcome and accepted in a way he always had tried to forget he longed for.

Which was exactly the crux.

For fifteen years now, Severus had managed to stay away from any close contact, and he certainly had not expected this to change any time soon. And yet, here he was, enjoying the company of someone who seemed to have the mysterious ability to break down the walls of cold indifference he had surrounded himself with. And Severus did not know whether or not he wanted this to happen.

With hindsight it seemed even more confusing that he had told Lupin about his duties as the Dark Lord's potions supplier. Albus, of course, knew about what he had to do, and he had never felt the desire to talk with him to lighten the burden of guilt he felt pressing down on him. He could not bring himself to reveal anything so personal to anyone, not even to the man who had acted more like a father to him than his own had ever done.

With Lupin, though, it was different. He had something about him that seemed to coax Severus out of his defence, something that made him feel he could trust him and let him see more of himself, Severus – not the personality of the snarky Potions teacher he had created to hide behind. He did not know why this was the case, why he felt at ease with Lupin in a way he had never felt with anyone else.

Leaving aside the incident in November – and this had been entirely his own fault – he had received nothing but kindness and acceptance from the other man. Even after he had confessed to him that he still was murdering innocents, Lupin had not turned from him in disgust, like Severus was sure everyone else would have done. And they would have done so rightfully. He could not expect people to understand that what he was doing was necessary to uphold his cover as loyal Death Eater, necessary to gather information for the Light, necessary to keep Potter safe. Most of the time he could not even make himself believe it. Lupin, however, had needed no explanation. He had listened – and understood. And, more than that, he had not tried to make him talk more than he wanted to; he had been there, and at that moment that had been enough.

It felt incredibly good to open up to Lupin – be it ever so slightly - but on the other hand it was frightening. Severus felt that he was losing control in this matter – something he could not let happen. He had already allowed himself to give in to his weakness by searching the werewolf's company in order to cope with the effects of the summonings, and he felt that should he follow the path he had taken he would make himself even more vulnerable than he had already done. Could he allow Lupin – anyone – to have such an influence on him?

The logical answer to this question was no, but logic seemed to forsake him where Lupin was concerned. The mere thought of reducing their relationship to what it had been before discomfited him in a most disturbing way.

Even more disconcerting, though, was the fact that he seemed unable to any longer refrain from thinking about what had happened at Grimmauld Place at the end of September. Until now, he had managed to shove the incident into the back of his mind, but since Christmas Day this had been downright impossible.

What had taken place at Grimmauld Place had been utterly humiliating. Not only had Lupin discovered him to be so weak as to having nightmares which made him scream and cry with fear, no, to crown it all Severus had hidden in the man's arms like a frightened child!

But however embarrassing all of this had been, it was not the humiliation that bothered Severus most. No, what really troubled him was that he simply could not stop thinking of how it had felt to be held the way Lupin had done.

He had almost felt safe – and for some reason, this scared him.

Severus had always prided himself on his unfailing logic. Right now it seemed that his logic had decided to go on holiday and not return any time soon.

.-.-.-.-

New Year's Eve was lonely and cold. It should not have affected him at all, since he was used to it for years. Why was it then that all evening he wanted nothing more than having one of Lupin's warm smiles directed at him?

* * *

Remus sensed that Severus needed to think about the recent events. His absence during meals, his brief and reserved answer when Remus had fire-called him to question him about the healing of his knee and his decline at Remus's suggestion to spend New Year's eve, a Friday, together – all these indicated that he was confused and needed time to adjust to the changes that had taken place. And Remus was well aware how crucial those changes were for Severus. Therefore, he did not press the issue any further, knowing that this would do no good.

New Year's Eve he spent at The Burrow, hoping to escape the memories of the last turn of the year, which he had celebrated with Sirius. Harry had been enthusiastic about the advanced book on Defence and the wizarding camera Remus had gotten him. The boy was fooling about with the twins and Ron; there was a snowball fight where Remus got soaked to the skin because everyone agreed to make him the main target of their attacks, and after that Fred and George showed "Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes" newest joke articles – a presentation from which Remus, being a teacher, was excluded with apologetic grins.

Later in the evening, an innocent looking Harry offered Remus a custard cream – at least it looked and tasted like that - and it was not until ten minutes after Remus had retransformed from a huge canary to his human form that anyone could stop laughing – beside Molly, who was ranting to Harry about him lacking respect for his teacher, all the while obviously trying to hide a smile.

Altogether it was a really enjoyable evening, and Remus was extremely relieved to see that Harry indeed seemed to revive from the depression that had taken hold of him during the previous months.

It was not until about midnight that his high spirits began to sink. Everyone was outside and watching the fireworks the twins had released. Although it was Wildfire-Whiz Bangs and not simply Muggle fireworks, it reminded Remus, who was standing a little aside, of the fireworks he and Sirius had watched at last New Year's Eve.

* * *

_Sirius had convinced him that it would not be that dangerous to sneak out of the house for an hour, and so they had left an hour before midnight – Sirius, of course, in his Animagus form. They had gone for a walk through the snowy streets, and when the first fireworks had begun, Sirius had transformed back to human. Now they were watching silently the colourful spectacle that was taking place against the background of the black night sky. _

Sirius embraced Remus from behind, the smaller man still fitting perfectly in his arms. "You know, I do realise how lucky I am to have you to be with me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know if I could handle someone like me… someone who's so messed-up…"

Remus did not answer immediately, the rare experience of being held like this being exquisite torture. Nowadays Sirius did not like physical contact, his attacks and the nights thereafter being exceptions from the rule. Happiness at the touch he so sorely missed and pain at knowing that he could never have what he was craving were soaring through Remus, making him wish to just hide in his former lover's arms and cry and for some precious moments enjoy the comfort Sirius would doubtless provide him with. But of course he did not allow himself to give in to this desire, knowing that he would have to explain – and thereby hurt the man he loved.

Finally, he simply leaned closer into the touch, loathing himself for being weak enough to bathe in the illusion of what he was longing for. "I promised I would always be there. That's what friends are for."

"Thank you," Sirius whispered, tightening the hug. "I think… I know _if it wasn't for you I couldn't cope with… with all this. With life. I need you."_

* * *

"I need you, too," Remus murmured desperately, when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning round, he saw Harry, who was watching him from suspiciously bright eyes.

"You're thinking of Sirius, aren't you?" Harry asked, pulling back his hand.

Remus swallowed the lump that had built in his throat. "Am I that obvious?" His voice sounded hoarse to himself.

Harry shook his head. "Only to someone who's feeling the same."

"Harry…" Remus did not know what to say. Everything he could think of sounded pathetic even before he spoke the words. He knew how much Sirius had meant to Harry, being the closest thing to a father the boy had ever known. Harry had never talked much about his relatives, but Sirius had made it quite clear to Remus that Harry had wanted to live with him, a convicted, while innocent, murderer whom he did not even really know rather than with people he had known for his entire life – and in Remus's eyes this was revealing quite a lot about Harry's home life. Meeting the Dursleys at King's Cross after Harry's fifth year hat only confirmed this suspicion.

"It's okay," Harry said, "you don't have to say something wise that wouldn't help neither me nor you. Maybe… when we're back at Hogwarts we sometime could just meet… and talk? If your offer's still standing, that is."

"Yes, of course!" Remus replied, feeling a small but honest smile spread across his face.

"Thanks," Harry said, returning the smile. "Ron and Hermione – they're helping me a lot, but… it would be good to have someone to talk to who knew him as good as you did."

A sudden pang of conscience hit Remus at these words. Neither he nor Sirius had ever told Harry about their relationship. In the wizarding world, homosexuality was considered relatively normal, but they knew that being raised as a Muggle, Harry might think differently about this subject. Moreover, Sirius had not wanted Harry to worry. Once his godson would have known that they had been in a relationship before Azkaban, he would have begun wondering about the present, Sirius had been sure – something that he would not let happen. Harry had enough to worry about, other than his godfather's and his ex-professor's love life.

Eventually, he would have to tell Harry, Remus now realised. Harry had a right to know. What he would keep to himself, though, was that he had still loved Sirius after his escape. He just could not talk about it, and Harry would be the wrong person for this anyway. He had enough to carry himself.

"What about Saturday in a week? Just come to my office after dinner, and we'll have some tea and can talk about everything you want, okay?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry. Whenever you need to talk, just ask. But I think right now you should go back to your friends. They're waiting for you." Remus pointed at the bunch of redheads who were waving at Harry.

"C'mon mate," Fred yelled. "Bill, Charlie and Ginny need to be taught a lesson, they think they could beat the four of us all on their own!" Just as to prove his statement, Bill now tackled his younger brother, dragging him to the ground and trying to rub a handful of snow into his face. Some seconds later, George was attacked by Charlie, and Ginny began firing snowballs at Ron.

"You ought to help them," Remus stated, and some moments later watched as Harry lunged himself at Charlie, pushing the redhead off his younger brother.

Remus watched for some minutes, feeling reminded of similar activities which had taken place years ago, a wavering smile lingering on his lips. He could see James and Sirius before his inner eye, their clothing wet, hair tousled, faces flushed from tussling and laughing. Suddenly, he felt achingly tired. Although he truly had enjoyed this day, all at once everything about it felt shallow. He could not help it, as much as he wanted to.

Remus turned round and slowly trudged back into the house, leaving behind the cheerful young people. He was happy for them, most of all for Harry, but just now he could not be a part of this.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, he found that Molly had followed him. Thankfully, she did not ask him if he wanted to talk – everyone had given up those attempts by the end of the summer holidays, realising that their well-meaning offers hurt him more than they helped. Instead, she only poured him a cup of tea and gently squeezed his shoulder before leaving again.

Closing his eyes, Remus surprisingly found himself thinking about Christmas with Severus. It had been so different from today, so quiet and… oddly peaceful. Yes, he had had to think about Sirius, but somehow… somehow it had not left him with this all-consuming despair that was threatening to overpower him right now. Severus had distracted him from that, he realised, simply by being there – something no one else had managed to do so far. He had felt at peace in a way he had not known for a very long time.

At this moment, Remus all of a sudden wished for nothing more than being at Hogwarts right now, away from the laughter and the sparkling vitality surrounding him here. He would be perfectly contented with sitting by the fireside in his chambers, listening to Severus talking about his favourite books with a compassion he would not have credited him with before – or rubbishing everything he disliked with a scathing sarcasm which a week ago had made Remus chuckle amusedly more than once.

Moreover, Remus felt that on Christmas they had reached a real breakthrough in their relationship. Severus had confided to him his feelings of guilt about what he was doing in Voldemort's service. He had not voiced them explicitly, but his vocal tone, his facial expression, his whole demeanour, they all had spoken volumes. Remus had felt strangely honoured that he had earned so much trust from Severus in so short a time.

This Severus Snape had been very different from the austere, spiteful man everyone knew. Remus had been allowed to take a glimpse behind his colleague's cold and hateful mask, and he found that he liked what he had seen.

Was it not ironic, he contemplated when finally he Flooed back to his rooms at Hogwarts about an hour later, that he seemed to find some strange kind of comfort in Sirius's worst enemy?

* * *

Cold.

Everything was cold.

For the time being, this was the only thought he was capable of. His head seemed to begin spinning frighteningly whenever he tried to catch a clear thought, so he kept concentrating on the sensations that slowly made their way into his mind.

Chills were running through his huddled form, the cold that was radiating from the stone floor and the walls he was leaning against making him shiver helplessly. The arms which were holding him did not provide him with any warmth or comfort, and when he tried to clench his hands to fists to suppress his violent shaking, the pain that flared up immediately where fingernails dug into skin indicated that he was wrapped up in his own embrace. There was a sickening taste of bile in his mouth, and the smell of vomit was lingering in the air.

Slowly, Severus cracked open his eyes. At first, his surroundings were nothing but dark, blurred forms and lines, but when his vision cleared, he recognised the room to be his living room. How had he gotten here? he asked himself while trying to stand up on shaky legs. And why was he not wearing his robes but only trousers and a thin shirt? He did not remember, and when he tried to, another wave of dizziness washed over him and made him slump into his armchair in front of the fireplace.

When the world had come into focus again, he looked round and noticed a puddle of vomit on the floor, next to which his wand was lying. Just what had happened? Forcing himself to breathe slowly and steadily, he tried to think.

Today was Sunday, the 9th of January. His birthday.

_'Happy birthday, Severus…'_ a whisper resounded in his mind and made him wince, but within an instant, it was gone.

What was the last thing he remembered?

It had been in the late afternoon, and he had worked on the Imperius Potion in his lab… when suddenly he had been summoned. Of course he had followed the call, and once again he had had to endure his master's fury because the potion had not yet been ready for use. So this was where the dull aching he felt was coming from. The Cruciatus Curse.

But there had been more…

_'I will re-establish our link, Severus,'_ the Dark Lord's voice hissed. _'And you will help me. You will brew a potion that makes the boy more susceptive to visions, so that I will have easy access to his mind.'_

Severus stiffened in his chair. He had to inform Albus of their enemy's plan! After the debacle in the department of Mysteries, the Dark Lord had decided to block the mental link he and Potter shared. But now he seemed to have changed his mind.

Sighing, Severus dragged himself to his feet and - having performed a quick spell to clean away the mess on the floor - staggered into his bedroom. He felt terribly tired. Having taken a new robe out of his wardrobe, he was about to put it on and leave for the headmaster's office, when suddenly he remembered that this evening Albus was away on some Order business. He had told him so on Friday evening, after the Order meeting at Headquarters had been over.

Well, then. He would inform Albus tomorrow before breakfast. At least, he thought grimly, buttoning the robe with still shaking hands, this would leave him a short delay before he would vote for resuming Occlumency lessons with the bane of his existence once more. He had no other choice, since he could not risk for the boy to get into danger. Ending the lessons the year before had caused enough damage, however rightfully Severus might have done so. He could not let something like that happen again.

_'Maybe Albus could teach him this time,'_ a hopeful voice in the back of his mind whispered. Yes, and maybe he, Severus, would become Minister of Magic some day, he told the voice sarcastically. But on the other hand…

_'You will tell me when the potion is ready, and only then will I begin the assault on his mind. I don't wish to risk any unpleasant surprise. The boy is stronger than I would have expected.'_

This time, there would be no danger that the Dark Lord would try to use Potter to attack Albus. It was in his, Severus's, hands, when the link would be re-established. Maybe he could truly get around teaching Potter Occlumency again.

Taking a look at his watch, Severus noticed that it was half past six already. It must have been around half past four when he had been summoned, and the meeting had not lasted longer than an hour. Could he truly have spent almost a whole hour on the floor in that corner? Now, at least that would explain why he was frozen to the marrow, he thought, climbing into his bed and crawling under the blanket. Hopefully, this would warm him up.

And what exactly had happened that had caused this new memory gap? However hard Severus tried to delve into his memory, he found nothing but emptiness and an overwhelming feeling of dread that made him shy away from any attempt to forcefully break through the barrier his mind had built around whatever might have happened. Maybe it was better if he did not know – surely it had to do with Lucius, who, as he remembered, had been present at the meeting. Shuddering, he curled into a ball under the thick blanket. No, he did not want to know.

Trying to regain control over his still trembling body, Severus could not get rid of the feeling that there was something else, something that he should remember. Something important… something concerning this evening.

Lupin!

They had not met on Friday, the Order meeting interfering with their appointment, and on Saturday evening, his colleague had already had an appointment with Potter. Therefore, they had decided to meet today. Severus felt a wave of relief wash over him, causing him to feel slightly better than before. In only one hour and a half, he would see Lupin. Still he did not know why the other man's presence helped him so much, but he finally decided not to think about it any longer. He needed Lupin - he had to admit it at least in front of himself. As long as the werewolf did not know, he could live with that fact.

.-.-

Finally, after what seemed to be ages, the time had come to leave the dungeons and head for Lupin's rooms. Severus had spent the last hour trying not to think about what could have happened after the Death Eaters meeting, but he had failed miserably. Once again he felt at the verge of a panic, and he had no words to describe his relief when finally he arrived at his colleague's rooms and was greeted with a friendly smile, the chessboard and two glasses of wine already set out on the table in front of the fireplace.

Severus, who had taken seat on the soft-cushioned sofa that suited his aching body more than the wing chair, did not talk much this evening. Instead, he let his colleague's voice wash over him, not really listening to the words but allowing himself to be soothed by the warm and soft tone he had learned to appreciate during the last weeks.

He did not pay much attention to their game and did not care that after an unusually short time he had lost pathetically. Having drunk his single glass of wine on an empty stomach, his general fatigue even increased, and soon it became difficult to hold open his eyes. The crackling of the warm fire provided a pleasant background to Lupin's still softly speaking voice, and Severus felt that he would fall asleep within a few minutes if he did not do anything to prevent it.

Forcing his already closed eyes open again, the Severus straightened himself from his comfortable position.

"Lupin, I think I should go. It's been a long day," he announced.

To some degree he was unwilling to leave the pleasant company, since he knew exactly that alone in his dungeons he would probably be unable to fall asleep, or should he at last be able to do so, he would most certainly be awoken by a nightmare sooner rather than later. But of course he could not allow himself to doze off in his colleague's presence. Since he had been released from the infirmary after his stay at Azkaban, Severus had never slept in the presence of another person.

"Well, that's a pity. It's just half past nine," the other man answered. "But you do look rather tired."

Severus was about to get up from the sofa when Lupin beckoned him to wait.

"Just a moment! There's something I wanted to give you," the werewolf said before getting up himself and walking over to the closet. When he returned, he was carrying a medium-sized packet, wrapped up in blue wrapping paper.

"I didn't know if you would like it, so I decided on giving it to you before you left," he said with an apologetic smile. "Call me selfish, but I didn't want to ruin the evening."

Severus frowned. What on earth did this mean? It could not possibly be… no one except of Albus had ever…

"Lupin? What is it?" he demanded to know.

"Why," again the werewolf smiled, "I couldn't possibly let you get away without…"

.-.-

_"…a birthday present!" Lucius drawled. He had taken off his mask, and Severus could see a smirk spread across the blonde's face as he quickly approached him, effectively cornering him so that there was no means of escape left._

.-.-

Remus saw Severus freeze on the spot. He was staring at him from glazed eyes, an expression of utter horror on his face.

"Snape? Is everything all right?" he asked.

He had no idea what had happened to cause this sudden change. Some minutes ago, the other man had been perfectly relaxed – something that had pleased Remus a good deal.

"Snape?" he tried again, taking some more steps in the direction of the sofa. "Is there…"

.-.-

_"…anything wrong?" Lucius's smirk became even larger as he stopped merely inches away from his victim, which now stood pressed against the wall in a corner of the empty room. Severus felt his breathing quicken, and his chest seemed to narrow painfully._

.-.-

Noticing that Severus's breathing now was coming in heavy gasps, Remus finally stepped next to him, kneeling down beside the sofa. He was truly worried by now.

"Severus? Can you hear me?" Tentatively, he reached out and touched the other man's arm.

.-.-

_Lucius roughly seized him by the shoulders and pinned him against the wall, his superior strength not giving Severus any chance to defend himself. He could feel the blonde's hot breath mingle with his own as the other man leaned towards him and with some quick movements ripped away his victim's robes, so that Severus was left only in trousers and a thin shirt. _

"Happy birthday, Severus," Lucius hissed before he finally crushed their lips together in a rough kiss. The world began spinning around Severus. Everything became dark and blurred, his perceptiveness being reduced to the sight of blond hair, the feeling of a tongue demanding entrance to his mouth and hands roaming his body, touching where no one was to touch him ever again.

.-.-

"NO!" It was a hoarse cry, filled with raw fear and pain, and immediately Remus jerked back his hand from the other man's arm.

"No… no no no…" Being released from the touch, Severus now shied away from Remus, crouching as deeply as possible into the corner of the sofa.

"Severus? It's me, Remus."

Seveus had drawn his knees up to his chest and now began rocking himself softly, his eyes squeezed shut.

"No no no…" he chanted monotonously, not in the least acknowledging Remus.

"Severus…" What should Remus do? He knew better than trying to touch the other man again. It would only scare him more.

Finally, after several more vain attempts to attract Severus's attention without scaring him, he made a decision. He obviously could not get through to his colleague, since the latter was too wrapped up in his flashback. For nothing else it was, of that Remus was sure. With a last worried glance at the sofa he got up and headed to his fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the box on the mantelpiece. He tossed it into the fire and stepped into the green flames.

"Infirmary!" he said, and some moments later he found himself in the fireplace of the white-painted hospital wing.

"Poppy!" he yelled as soon as he had stepped out of the fireplace. "Poppy! Where are you?"

Only some seconds later, the medi-witch rushed out of her office. "What happened?" she demanded to know in seeing him. "Remus? Why are you making such a noise? Don't you -"

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time for explanations," Remus cut her off. "Please, I need a calming draught, a strong one that helps with someone who's got an acute flashback of a traumatic experience and won't react to any attempt to soothe them. It's urgent!" His insistent tone seemed to have the desired result, for the matron nodded and turned towards the closet that contained the medicaments.

"Oh, and there mustn't be any of the addictive ingredients of sleeping potions in it," Remus added, suddenly remembering that most calming potions were based on the same ingredients as sleeping draughts and therefore Severus could not take any of them.

Poppy turned round and shot him a sharp look, but then she hurried wordlessly into her office and some moments later returned with a small vial, containing a light red liquid.

"Now, listen very closely," she said, handing him the vial. "This is the only potion that isn't based on those addictive ingredients and still strong enough to cause the desired effects. It's called Mentis Apertae Potion, which means 'Potion of the open mind'. Any person who takes it will, once it's fully effective, be entirely open for anything that is said and done by the person they're interacting with. Yell at them and use harsh words, and they'll be scared like a small child. Be patient and friendly, soothe them with soft words, and they'll completely trust you. They'll believe everything you say, for as long as the potion's in their system." She looked at him sternly. "The effects last for about eight hours, and during this time you'll have to stay with the person. You mustn't leave them alone. They'll be completely helpless, so it's an immense responsibility for you. Do you understand?"

Remus nodded. If this was what it took to help Severus, he would do it. "Yes, I understand. I'll do exactly what you said. Thank you." He turned round to leave, but she held him back, placing a hand on his arm.

"Wait!"

"Is there anything else?" Remus could hardly hide his impatience, wanting to return to Severus as soon as possible.

"I suppose you know that Severus doesn't like physical contact," Poppy said, ignoring Remus's surprised gasp as she spoke the name. "Under the influence of the potion, however, it's different with him. The Mentis Apertae reveals some of our true self, and Severus isn't the harsh and cold man he wants everyone to believe he is. In truth he's starved for affection, so he'll be very responsive to gentle touch. Try to hold him, if possible; he'll like that specifically."

"Why do you think it's him?" Remus asked, worried that he might have given away something by what he had said. Severus would not forgive him if other people began asking questions.

"There's only one person at Hogwarts who can't take sleeping potions and the usual calming draughts," she answered. "Who do you think took care of him during the detoxication of Dreamless Sleep? And who do you think treated him sixteen years ago, when Albus brought him here from Azkaban? Other than you and Albus, I'm the only one who knows what Malfoy did to him. He doesn't like that fact, and he'd bite off his tongue rather than asking me for help, even now that he has to see him again." The medi-witch smiled sadly at Remus, who was relieved that he had not divulged anything to someone who did not already know.

"His body healed quickly," she sighed, "but his soul never did, although he does everything to hide that fact, even from himself. I know how he reacts to this potion, because in the beginning I had to use it on him frequently." Poppy suddenly sounded tired. "Albus told me what you are doing for Severus. He said you might need my help some time, and it seems he wasn't mistaken. Take good care of him," she said, finally releasing his arm. "He deserves it."

Remus nodded and headed towards the fireplace, grabbing some Floo powder and throwing it into the flames. "Thank you," he said before he stepped into the green flames, shouting "Professor Lupin's rooms!" Only seconds later he found himself stumbling out of his own fireplace.

Severus had not moved during the short time Remus had been away. Still he was crouched in the corner of the sofa, and still he was rocking himself, whimpering "No no no," over and over again.

"Severus? Can you hear me?" Remus tried once more, but just like before the other man did not acknowledge his presence.

"I'm sorry," Remus murmured before casting a binding spell on the other man to prevent him from fighting. He then sat down beside him on the edge of the sofa and uncorked the vial. Gently massaging his throat to help him swallow, he forced Severus to drink its contents. After that, he quickly released him from the spell.

Immediately, Severus tried to crouch even deeper into the corner of the sofa, hiding his face behind his arms and again whispering "…no, no, no…" like a desperate prayer to protect himself from the imaginary threat. Remus knew he had to act with utmost caution to make the scared man trust him.

"Severus," he began, speaking in the most gentle tone he could manage. "Severus, everything's all right. Can you hear me? Everything's all right. You're safe."

His colleague did not react.

"Severus, it's me, Remus," he went on calmly. "You know me. Remus. I'm… I'm your friend." The word sounded strange only for a few seconds. "I'm your friend, and I won't hurt you. You're safe with me."

Still no reaction. For a few minutes, all that Remus did was talk softly to the other man, again and again promising him that he was safe and that he, Remus, was a friend of his. Finally, Severus fell silent, although he still did not move and was breathing heavily with ragged gasps. Remus decided that it was time for the next step.

"Now I'm going to touch your arm, okay?" he said, remembering what Poppy had told him. When he reached out and lightly placed his right hand on a thin arm, he earned a violent wince and a frightened whimper, but Severus's attempts to flee from the touch were feeble and did not last longer than a few seconds. After that, he simply stayed stiff and motionless.

"Shh, Severus, it's okay. You're safe. I won't hurt you," Remus reassured, beginning to slowly stroke the other man's arm. "Look, doesn't that feel good? I'm your friend. It's okay that I touch you. Now, will you please look at me?"

It took some time and some more persuasion, but at last Severus slowly lowered his arms and revealed his pale face, staring at Remus from haunted black eyes, obviously uncertain of what to do. Remus could see that he was still scared, but there was a longing expression on his face that told of his wish to be able to trust.

"Severus, do you recognise me? It's Remus," he tried.

The other man kept staring at him for some moments before a hint of awareness crept into his eyes.

"Remus…" The whisper was almost inaudible.

"Yes, it's me." Finally, the potion seemed to show its full effects, Remus noticed with relief. He now continued to stroke Severus's arm, and again he began talking to him in soft tones, asking him to trust him, assuring that he only wanted to help and would not hurt him.

Eventually, after several minutes of gentle coaxing, Remus managed to manoeuvre him into his arms without scaring him even more than he already was. Severus had made himself as small as possible, and Remus could feel the tension in the other man's body that every now and then was shaken by fierce tremors. After some more minutes, he could hear shreds of frantic whispers between the still heavy breaths. "…nothing… world… crying for… Snape… not cry… a Snape…"

"It's all right, Severus," Remus soothed. "It's all right to cry."

"…no," Severus breathed, "…no… a Snape does… not cry…"

Maybe the potion was not yet fully effective, Remus thought. The casual tremors became stronger and more frequent as the tears pushed for being released.

"Severus, trust me. It's all right to cry." Remus now began to draw slow, soothing circles on the other man's back. "It's all right, I promise, it's all right…"

Finally, Severus's feeble defence crumbled, torn down by his own anguish and Remus's reassuring words, and the abrupt tremors gave way to a soft, continuous trembling as he wept soundlessly, his face hidden in Remus's robes. The latter simply continued stroking him, sadly wondering how many years had gone by since Severus had allowed himself to cry on someone's shoulder for the last time, and if he ever had been able to do so without the help of the potion.

After some time, the tears slowly subsided. "See, I promised you it would be okay," Remus said, wishing to make the other man understand that he had done nothing wrong. Severus whimpered softly. Still he was tense and curled into a tight ball against Remus's chest, not daring to move. Remus now began to run a hand gently through the long, black hair.

"It's okay, Severus, you're doing very well," he told him.

It took a long time of gentle encouragements and tender caresses until Severus eventually, bit by bit, relaxed. Finally, he was lying limply in Remus's arms, his head resting in the crook of Remus's neck. Feeling incredibly relieved that at last he had calmed down, Remus decided on just holding him for a while before contemplating his further actions. He felt the soft, constant breathing against his skin and allowed himself a slight smile. Severus seemed to feel safe - at least for now. How long would it take until he would be summoned to face his demons again? Weeks, days, or only hours?

"Why are you doing this to yourself? Why did you insist on spying again?" Suddenly overcome by a deep sadness, Remus had whispered these questions to himself, not expecting Severus to react in any way.

"Because it's my duty." The words were murmured calmly, vacantly. Remus was surprised.

_'Any person who takes it will, once it's fully effective, be entirely open for anything that is said and done by the person they're interacting with,'_ Poppy's voice resounded in his mind. Of course, he realised. Finally being entirely under the influence of the potion, Severus would not only willingly believe everything he was told, but also answer any questions he was asked.

Remus knew he must not take advantage of this situation, since this would be simply immoral. Nevertheless, he could not resist the temptation of at least finding out about Severus's motives for exposing himself to Malfoy's presence and the other horrors which being a Death Eater brought about. If Remus wanted to be able to help him, he had to know.

"Why?" he asked carefully. "Why is it you duty?"

"Potter," Severus murmured into Remus's neck. "I owe it Potter."

"Harry?" Remus asked incredulously, trying to keep his voice under control.

"Yes. It's my duty. I must not fail him, not again."

Fail Harry? Again? What on earth was Severus talking about? Remus was completely confused. Before he could ask, Severus went on.

"As much as I hated him - I owed my life to James Potter, and I failed to pay this debt. As a spy in the Dark Lord's ranks I should have found out Pettigrew to be a traitor. It was my duty. If I had uncovered the traitor, the Potters wouldn't have died. The boy wouldn't have lost his parents and wouldn't have been marked by the Dark Lord."

Remus was thunderstruck. "Severus that's… nonsense!" he exclaimed. Severus could not honestly believe what he had said! He had always done everything in his power to provide the Order with as much information as possible - and in doing so he had risked his life every day! "You couldn't find out everything!" But that seemed to be exactly what Severus had demanded of himself.

Being absorbed in his righteous anger, Remus had not noticed Severus flinching at his rather sharply uttered words. Only when he finally noticed the violent shaking of the body in his arms, he realised his mistake.

_'Remus Lupin, you thoughtless idiot!'_ he inwardly scolded himself as he again begun to gently stroke the other man's back.

"Shhh, it's all right," he soothed, "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to scare you, it's all right."

Luckily, it did not take long until Severus had calmed down, the potion helping him in accepting the comfort he was offered.

"So, you say you began spying again because you owe it Harry, is that right?" Remus went on when the other man had relaxed again.

He felt Severus nod. "Yes…"

"So you do care about him." It was a strange idea - picturing the Potions Mater caring so much for his most hated student's safety that he would even take it upon himself to constantly endure Malfoy's assaults - even though this sense of duty 'only' resulted from a misled idea of being indebted to Harry. No one, and least Harry himself, would ever have demanded such a sacrifice of him.

"Of course I do," Severus murmured. "And I hate it. I hate following him around, always looking out for him, trying to keep him out of trouble. Some colleagues might think that I like patrolling the corridors at night. In fact, I only do it because I know it would never occur to the blasted boy that one could actually sleep at night. That one could actually stick to the rules, rules that were made for his and his lot's safety."

Remus swallowed. He, just like everyone else, had always believed Severus to hate Harry so much that he would use every possible chance to pick on him, and that therefore he so often followed the Gryffindor and his friends like a shadow. Now it seemed they all had been horribly wrong.

"I truly hate that boy," Severus went on, but in his voice there was no sign of anger. If anything, he sounded utterly worn out. "He's just like his father. Always getting himself into trouble, always getting away with it without any consequences to his actions, just because he's so damn popular. It's disgusting." He sighed. "But I'd die myself rather than to bear the blame for the death of a third Potter. Do you have the faintest idea how it feels, having to see him every day, for almost six years now? To see the living reminder of what I failed to do? The carbon copy of James Potter, everyone's darling at his time, together with Black…"

Remus kept silent, listening. Once he had begun talking, Severus seemed to need getting those things out of his system. And for some unfathomable reason, Remus did not even mind hearing him talking about James and Sirius, although he was certain he only would get to hear the same old insults.

"No matter what they did - everyone liked them. Everyone cheered them." At any other time, the Slytherin's words would have dripped with spite when speaking about his old enemies from school. Now, however, there was nothing but a deep sadness that made Remus blood thicken in his veins.

"I would have cheered along," Severus whispered. "If they had let me. But of course they wouldn't. It was… ridiculous to even think of it. I simply didn't yet know my place." The man shuddered in Remus's arms. "When I had realised I would never be accepted, I would have been perfectly content with being invisible to everyone. But even that was asking too much." His slender fingers now clung firmly to Remus's robes. "In the beginning I dared to hope that at least we… could be friends. But of course," again a slight shiver went through his thin form, "it was a stupid idea. Why would you put up with something like me if you had them…"

Remus was more than shocked by now. _Know his place? Something like him?_ Was this how Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House, this seemingly proud and arrogant man, truly thought about himself? It was almost unbelievable. And yet - reminding himself of what he knew about Severus's childhood and what had happened with Lucius, Remus realised that this indeed must be the real Severus Snape. Someone who was broken, who had never thought of himself other than as worthless. The haughty and superior attitude the Slytherin had always displayed had been nothing but a façade.

Again Severus had begun to cry softly, the potion having torn down any barriers. Once more beginning to gently card his fingers through the other man's hair, Remus could not hold back his own, silent tears - tears of sympathy and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Severus," he whispered to the man in his arms. "I'm so sorry…"

What would have happened, had he not been such a coward? What if he had followed the affection he had felt for the Slytherin rather than letting his behaviour being ruled by the opinion of his housemates and his fear to lose them as friends? He would never know.

That evening, the two men cried for a friendship they had lost twenty-six years ago, a friendship they had never really had. Only time would show if they would be allowed a second chance.

* * *

**"Mentis apertae" **is the genitive of "mens aperta", which means "open mind" in Latin.

**

* * *

**


	13. Touch

**Chapter 13 – Touch**

About a quarter of an hour after both men's tears had finally subsided – Remus's silent ones much sooner than Severus's soft, desperate sobs – they were still sitting on the sofa in the same position as before: Remus holding Severus in his arms and slowly stroking his head, Severus leaning against his colleague with closed eyes, his fingers clinging now loosely to the worn fabric of the other man's robes.

Remus was deeply lost in thought. True, he had known that Severus was suffering greatly from the situation, again and again having to endure Malfoy's cruel assaults. And he had also partly known about the effects which these incidents had on him, having witnessed one of his panic attacks in the Pensieve. But somehow, it seemed, his mind had failed to draw the final connection between the broken man he had watched in the Pensieve and the tired, obviously pained but still always composed man he had gotten to know during the last months. He had known the facts, yes, but that someone who was so badly broken should still be functioning, even when still being exposed to the traumatic triggers, was hardly conceivable.

Tonight, however, those two persons had become one. Seeing Severus breaking down in his very presence had made realisation strike, and it had struck deeply, painfully evoking feelings from what seemed to be ages - and sometimes only days – ago, when he had witnessed similar scenes with another man. This thought made Remus feel uneasy, and he quickly dismissed it. It was absurd to compare Severus to Sirius. It had been similar only because they both had been in need of comfort, nothing more. He had wanted to help Severus, like he would have done with anyone – how could you not pity someone in such a situation?

But, as he realised only moments later, he did not pity Severus. That would have belittled what Severus was doing for them. No, it was not pity that he was feeling - he was developing a deep and honest respect for this man, a man who was sacrificing everything to his task, desperate to make amends for his deeds. And how poorly was he being repaid by the other Order members!

Their attitudes toward him were ranging from cool indifference over uneasy doubtfulness to open hostility and distrust. Severus accepted it all silently – the cold, loathing glances, the abruptly stopping conversations as soon as he entered a room, the hushed whispering, the venomous remarks. Until not too long ago, Remus would have said this was so because Severus did not care, but now he thought better about it. Sighing, he looked down at the dark head nestled to his neck.

_'It's because you think you deserve it, isn't it? Because you think they're just right in their judgement.'_

Unconsciously, Remus tightened his hold around Severus. It felt good, having him that close, and the slender body seemed to be made for being held by him, so well did it fit into his embrace. The other man did not move, and Remus wondered if he might have dozed off at last. It was likely, since he had already been exhausted when he had arrived at Remus's rooms. And after what he had been through tonight…

How often had Severus suffered attacks like those after a summoning, and afterwards had endured the Order's distrust and scorn, Remus asked himself. Whom of the others would be able to do so? Certainly not Remus himself. He knew how it felt to be shunned and despised, and he respected Severus all the more for taking it upon himself voluntarily.

He, himself, had not truly doubted that Severus's allegiance lay with Albus, because he trusted the old wizard's judgement. But he had never troubled himself with the others' insulting behaviour. Severus was a grown man and usually quick at repartee; he could care for himself. And if he chose to react just by glaring or leaving the room – who was Remus to object?

Now, he felt once again disgustingly hypocritical, but also annoyed about that. He could not change the past, and he should stop brooding. He could not have known.

_'True, but you could have voiced your opinion, couldn't you?'_

And of what use would it have been? Certainly, Snape would have made it crystal clear that he needed no support from him, of all people. So, the only result would have been irritation on the parts of the other Order members, and he could do without that.

_'Just as you could do without being rejected by your friends at school for telling the truth.'_

Remus closed his eyes as a bitter smile crept onto his lips at this thought. It seemed he had made the same mistake again.

Everyone who had ever loved him unconditionally was dead. His family, James, Lily and Sirius, and Peter could be counted as dead as well.

Then there was Albus and Harry, who, truth be told, liked and accepted Remus as he was, but it was not enough to dispel the feeling of loneliness and uselessness that sometimes threatened to suffocate him since Sirius's death.

With the Order, he was needed and accepted; willingly by some, like the Weasleys, Tonks or Shacklebolt, grudgingly by others. But accepted nonetheless. He could not lose this. Or at least that was what he had thought. But now…

Remus carded his fingers through the black locks once more, absent-mindedly wondering at how much he liked the feeling of the admittedly greasy strands flowing through them so easily. For a while, he simply let his troubled mind be soothed by the pleasant sensation, but finally, he decided that it was time for them to sleep.

"Severus?"

The softly uttered question gained him a small, muffled sound, indicating that the Potions Master was halfway asleep already.

"Come on, let's get you into bed."

There was no way Severus would return to his own quarters tonight, since the potion in his system demanded that someone stay with him. Carefully getting to his feet and scooping up the other man in his arms, Remus made his way to the bedroom. Having arrived, he then gently eased Severus down on the bed, propping him up against the headboard, not without feeling an odd remorse at the loss of the close contact. There was an awkward moment as he tried to pull back – Severus's grip at his colleague's robes had tightened again.

"Severus, you need to let go, please."

Finally, after a repeat of this request, and after Remus had sat down next to him and had gently stroked his hands for awhile, Severus's fingers hesitantly unclenched.

"I'm going to take off your robes now," Remus announced, quickly adding, "but nothing else! Just the robes and your shoes. Is that acceptable?"

He took the almost imperceptible nod from a sleepily blinking Severus as a yes and begun unbuttoning the thick, black garment, under which, clad only in shirt and trousers, the other man was even thinner than he usually appeared to be, even without the Glamour Charm deceiving the eye. The hot surge of anger toward his colleague for not taking better care of himself abated as quickly as it had come. Eating properly was probably something Severus could not care less about at the moment.

Having rid the other man of his robes and shoes, Remus then asked him to lie down. Severus did as he was told, immediately curling into a foetal position as Remus pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.

"Listen, I'll sleep on the sofa in the living room." Remus now explained, his hand still resting on the other man's arm. "I'll leave the door open, so if you need anything, just call."

After waiting for an answer for several silent moments, Remus decided that his colleague was probably already sleeping. With a murmured, "Good night," he got up to leave the room. He had hardly reached the door, however, when a soft whimper from the bed made him stop and turn.

"Severus? Is there anything wrong?"

There was no reply but more quiet whimpering that made him return to the bed and sit down again. Touching the other man, he could feel him shaking under the covers. Slowly, he begun running his hand through Severus's hair, talking softly to him.

"I'm not leaving, you don't have to be afraid. I'm just going to the room next door. You'll be safe, and I'll be there if you need me. Now just try and get some sleep."

After some minutes, Severus had fallen silent and relaxed again, and Remus once more got up to leave. This time he did not even have the time to make a second step away from the bed before a small, frightened sound caught his ear. Sighing, he turned again and looked down at the huddled form beneath the bedcovers.

"Looks like we'll have to share tonight. I truly wonder what you'll think about all this tomorrow morning."

Deciding that he could think about this problem when it became reality, Remus took off his shoes and robes, yawning. It was only an hour to midnight by now. He turned off the light that was shining into the bedroom from the living room with a wave of his wand and a murmured "Nox!", and then slipped under the blanket behind Severus. Gently, he moved the curled-up form into his arms, his chest and abdomen pressed to the other man's curved back.

"There, that's better, isn't it?"

As an answer, Severus snuggled up as closely as possible to him, and once again Remus's hand found its way into the long hair. Stroking lightly, he felt how, after some time, the man in his arms relaxed and his breathing gradually evened out until finally he had fallen asleep. Remus smiled slightly as he shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes. It felt good to lie in bed next to another person. He had missed this greatly during the months since Sirius's death.

Usually, Sirius and he had not slept in the same bed afterhis return to Grimmauld Place, but in the nights after his seizures Sirius had needed Remus's company. And Remus had never refused. Living with the man he loved without being able to be near him had been hell, and there had been far too many nights in which he had wept himself to sleep alone. Whenever Sirius had asked him to stay with him, he had complied gladly. And he had always felt guilty about it.

How often had he been lying in bed, holding Sirius, savouring his touch, his scent, his mere presence – and at the same time being abashed to the core? This could only take place because the man he loved was suffering, and Remus should have wished for nothing more than for it happening as seldom as possible. But instead, he had felt this treacherous, disgusting happiness deep down inside whenever he had been allowed to be so near to Sirius. The memory hurt, and instinctively he nestled closer to Severus and the comforting warmth he was providing. Yes, he had missed this so much…

Gradually, his thoughts still being with Sirius, Remus began drifting off to sleep, lulled by the other man's steady breathing. It was soothing, just like his warmth, his touch… just like Sirius… his presence had always felt so wonderful… this felt good… peaceful, secure… lying next to… Sirius… Remus smiled slightly in his doze. He loved him so much… and now he was so close… like it should always be…

Suddenly, a shudder went through the man in his embrace and he murmured something, his limbs twitching slightly. Although halfway asleep already, Remus automatically moved to run his hand over his back. That always worked with Sirius.

"It's all right," he mumbled, "just sleep, Si –" and that was when his fingers touched something that should not have been there. It took his drowsy mind some moments to process the information it was fed: where there should have been nothing but smooth skin under the other man's thin shirt, he felt a thick, bulging… something. Willing himself to fully awake again, he then realised other things which were wrong. The body in his arms was too small to be Sirius's, who had been taller than Remus himself, and too thin as well. The scent was different, the hair too short. It felt greasy under his touch, and it was then that reality finally hit him.

Sirius was dead, and the man sleeping in his bed was Severus Snape, who had had a breakdown in Remus's quarters, probably due to some encounter with Malfoy. And Remus had, halfway asleep, taken him for Sirius, the man he loved! Remus almost felt as if he had molested Severus, and it took him a great deal of will power not to shy away from him. How could he give in to this kind of illusion even for a second? Doing that would mean using Severus, using him to ease his own pain in a most inappropriate way, and Severus deserved better than that. If anything, he should be cherished for himself – not that Remus had any intention of taking that direction in their relationship, as he told himself.

And what was that thing that had torn him out of his pleasant half-dream? Carefully, he now touched the other man's back again. There it was… a scar, as he realised. Tracing it, he noticed that it was quite long, and where it ended, it directly passed into another one… and another one… Through the thick, stiff fabric of the robes Severus had been wearing, Remus had not noticed them before. Slowly running his hand over Severus's back, tracing the thick, jagged scars until he had felt each of them, Remus found that not an inch of Severus's back was unmarred.

They must be the remainders of the wounds Malfoy had inflicted on him sixteen years ago, Remus realised, and at this moment, he all at once felt infuriated and painfully sad again, even more so than before. If only he could do something to help - preferably send Malfoy to hell, or anything else that would spare Severus another meeting with his rapist!

He pulled Severus closer in a protective gesture, and the feeling that all this was perfectly right, that both of them were exactly where they belonged, was now even stronger than before, when he had mistaken Severus for Sirius. He did not know why this was so, nor why the thought of what Severus was going through suddenly hurt in a way only one other thing had ever done. It was the same feeling that had overwhelmed him whenever he had seen Sirius suffer, whenever he had agonised over the question if there was nothing he could do to help the man he loved.

It was strange – frightening, to be honest – that he should feel something even remotely similar about Severus now, and therefore Remus quickly tried to shove the thought back into his subconscious. He should truly sleep now, he decided, unwilling to deal with something so disturbing. Closing his eyes, Remus nestled his face to the other man's shoulder, and despite his confused feelings the events of the evening finally took their toll, making him succumb to an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Slowly, Severus drifted from the realms of sleep into consciousness. He was surrounded by a comfortable warmth, and a soothing and steady sound was in his ear. With his eyes still closed and his mind drowsy, he allowed himself to bathe in the feeling of safety and peace that these sensations evoked in him. Sighing softly, he breathed in the faint scent of vanilla and tea that was radiating from the person on whose chest his head was resting. This person now stirred, ever so slightly tightening the embrace Severus was wrapped up in.

That was all it took. Suddenly wide awake, Severus jerked himself free from the arms holding him, hardly managing to hold back a yelp of fear. He felt his chest narrow painfully as he scrambled away from whoever might be lying next to him. When his back touched the wood of the headboard, his breaths had become shallow and rapid. His head begun swimming, making him feel dizzy and disoriented, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to repress those sensations.

"…Severus…" a voice was calling him through the mist clouding his mind. "…Severus, calm down, please…" He knew it, had heard it before.

He was hardly able to breathe anymore; his frantic gasps for breath seemed to be of no use at all.

"…it's only I, Remus, there's nothing to be afraid of…"

Without knowing why, his mind somehow linked this voice with safety and comfort, and he clung to this straw firmly.

"…please, Severus, breathe slowly now. Come, breathe with me: in… out… in… out…"

He tried, but it was hard, almost impossible.

"Come, I know you can do it. Just breathe with me, listen to me: in… out… in… out…"

The voice was like an anchor, and now he gradually managed to do as it ordered, bit by bit adjusting his breathing to the rhythm it provided. Finally, it had slowed down to normal, and when the dizziness had left and Severus opened his eyes, he found himself looking into the concerned face of Remus Lupin.

Severus opened his mouth to say something – but he found himself at a complete loss of words.

Taking in his surroundings, he realised that he was not in his own quarters but in what must be his colleague's bedroom. How had he gotten here? He remembered coming to Lupin's room in the evening… but nothing more.

"Severus?" Lupin asked now, worried. "How are you feeling?"

Severus? Since when did they call one another by their given names? Why had they slept in the same bed? Cuddling, even! Just what had happened last night?

Once more he felt panic welling up, and he made a hasty move to get up and away from the other man, but his body would not obey him. He got tangled up in the sheets and his mind already prepared itself for the painful collision with the floor, when suddenly his fall was stopped and he felt himself being gently pulled onto the bed again.

For some moments, the adrenaline flowing through his veins made him incapable of any clear thoughts, and when it abated, he found that Lupin had let go of him and once again was watching him with concern.

"Are you all right?"

Finally, he retrieved his voice. "No, I am not! How could I be when I awake in your bed, with no idea how I got here, or why?" he snapped, trying to conceal his embarrassment by laying as much anger in his voice as he could muster.

The other man looked startled. "You don't remember?"

"Obviously not." He suppresed an annoyed sigh. "I don't even remember what happened after I arrived yesterday."

The situation was getting more and more ridiculous. Here they were, sitting on Lupin's bed after having spent the night together – and he had no idea what they might have done. They did not possibly have… no. No, that could not be. They were both still fully clad, and moreover, he would never think of that, after Lucius had… with great effort, he cut off this thought. This was not the right time, not with Lupin sitting only inches away from him. Far too near, as he began to realise with growing unease.

* * *

Remus noticed the look of increasing discomfort on the other man's face, as well as his defensive posture, and he realised that it was probably not a good idea to be so near to Severus. A quick glance at the clock had told him that it was half past six, and the potion must have worn off by now. He quickly retreated from Severus and climbed out of bed.

"I think we should discuss this during breakfast," he said. "Maybe you remember until then, and if you don't, I'll explain it to you." His colleague seemed about to protest, but he did not give him the time to speak and went on. "Let me use the bathroom first; it won't take longer than a few minutes."

With these words, he grabbed his robes and shoes and quickly disappeared into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom. When he returned after a short time, he found that Severus had gotten up as well and was now buttoning his robes. He was deliberately ignored as he passed him to reach the door to the living room.

Having left the bedroom, Remus summoned Dobby and asked him to bring breakfast for two persons before sitting down at the table. He hoped that he would be able to convince Severus to stay instead of leaving immediately. Of course, he understood how embarrassed the other man must be. Waking up in another person's bed, without even knowing how he had ended up there – he himself would not have felt any different. And for Severus it must be even worse, considering his previous history. Remus had been truly worried when Severus had began to hyperventilate, afraid he would not be able to calm him down.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, which were burning with tiredness. Their sleep had not been as undisturbed as he would have wished… The small "pop" of Dobby's return interrupted his musings, and after the house elf had set the table, Remus thankfully poured himself a cup of tea to revive his spirits. He was most certainly not a morning person.

Sipping his tea, his thoughts returned to the man in his bedroom and to the question of how to deal with the present situation. His quick retreat had primarily had the purpose of giving him time to think about what to do.

Severus seemed to have forgotten the previous evening's events entirely, and the more Remus thought about it, the more he asked himself if he should tell him what had happened at all. Surely, the other man would be mortified if he learned about his breakdown. He had just begun to open up to Remus ever so slightly, and, being the highly reserved person he was, the idea of having shown himself so vulnerable in front of another person would be horrible to him.

No, Remus shook his head, maybe he truly should not tell Severus – what good would it do? The situation was difficult enough, and it certainly did not need to deteriorate.

But this was only half of his motivation, as he had to admit deep down inside. There was a second reason why he did not want to upset his colleague even more, and it probably even outweighed the other one: Remus did not want to risk the reluctant friendship that had developed between them. How could he know that Severus would not withdraw from him, too abashed by the events to associate with him any longer? Remus had come to truly feel attached to Severus, and the thought of losing his company was most unwelcome, painful even.

No more challenging chess matches with an equally skilled opponent; no more animated conversations about literature in front of the fire; no more glimpses behind the cold façade of a man who began fascinating him more than he wanted to admitto himself...

No more periods of time when the thought of Sirius did not hurt that much, when the nagging pain was soothed and he almost felt at peace...

He could not let that happen.

An uneasy feeling welled up in him as he made the decision, but he quickly brushed it aside. Sometimes, white lies were better than the truth. No one would gain anything if he told Severus all that had happened. No, it was better this way.

Still, the uneasiness would not fully leave, but he had no time to think about it any further, for now he heard the door of the bedroom open. Turning round, his gaze fell upon Severus, who now was standing stiffly in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes flashing with suppressed emotion.

* * *

"Won't you sit down?"

So Lupin seriously expected him to sit and have breakfast with him? If the situation had not been so upsetting, Severus might have felt tempted to laugh at the stupidity of it all. His life recently became more and more absurd. He seemed to have completely lost control over it.

"Listen, Lupin, I'm not interested in these little games. I do not want to sit down. Just tell me what happened!"

The other man shook his head. "It won't kill you to eat something during that. Aren't you hungry?"

Truth be told, Severus did indeed feel extremely hungry, and it would take another hour until breakfast in the Great Hall would be served. He probably could eat something now – and if he did so, maybe the werewolf would _finally_ tell him what he wanted to know.

"Fine." Severus stalked over to the table and sat down stiffly on the longer side of it. Lupin was sitting on the front end to his left.

"Tea?" Lupin asked, and when Severus nodded, he poured him a cup, wordlessly adding some milk before handing it to him. He did not ask if he wanted sugar, and Severus found himself wondering how his colleague knew how he drank his tea. Had he paid that much attention in the past? It almost seemed so, and Severus felt oddly pleased by this. But he must not let himself being distracted by negligibilities. He still had to find out what had happened, why he had awoken in Lupin's bed!

"Would you be so kind as to enlighten me now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Well," Lupin answered lightly, "you fell asleep, and I didn't see the point in waking you when you could sleep here. The bed is big enough – and it's not like I snore."

Severus snorted at this comment. He would definitely have preferred to be woken up instead of finding himself in one bed with the werewolf, would he not? Fresh memories pulled at his mind. The warmth of another body next to him, arms wrapped safely around him, the soothing sound of the other man's heartbeat…

"I could have slept on the sofa," he pointed out, his voice rather harsh in the attempt to brush aside those feelings.

Lupin shook his head. "That was what I intended to do," he replied softly. "You were exhausted and I figured you would need the bed more than I. But you had a nightmare and couldn't sleep alone after that."

Severus was mortified, and, trying to hide it, he shot his colleague an indignant look.

"Do you want to tell me I needed you to sleep with me?" _…it had been dark…_ "I am not a child!"

_…a cold, silent darkness…_

It was not true, of course.

_…it had lasted for ages, or so it seemed to the small boy cowering in the corner of the damp cellar room…_

It could not be true.

_…father had brought him here after he had beaten him for crying…_

He certainly did not need that sort of comfort from the werewolf!

_…he still was hurting everywhere, but it hurt even more to know that mother would never return…_

Lupin replied something, but Severus did not pay attention to him.

_…she had been dead only for two weeks…_

Instead, he got wrapped up in memory.

_He had been sitting in the dark for so long, willing himself not to cry. Father would not approve of such weakness – he had only punished him because of it, so how could he disappoint him by crying even more? He wanted to make father proud of him. But father had said he would never be capable of doing so, and he was always right. Severus felt tears welling up again, tears he had tried so hard to suppress… _

A small sound interrupted the silence, and soon the room was resounding with fierce sobs which were racking the small form on the floor.

"I-I'm s-sorry, father," he choked out into the darkness, "I'm sorry t-to be a d-disa-appointment…"

"Then why don't you stop disappointing me?"

Reluctantly raising his head, Severus saw his father's tall form standing only inches away from himself. He looked even more imposing as he was illuminated only by the greenish glow radiating from the tip of his wand. Severus instinctively shied away from him, crouching deeper into the corner.

"I was going to get you out, but it seems you haven't learnt your lesson yet." His father turned to leave again.

"No, please…"

Only seconds after the hardly audible whisper, a hard blow made him hit the wall and cry out in pain. Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he managed after some minutes to look up at his father again, who was observing him coldly.

"No more backtalking, or you will stay for another four hours. Keep quiet, and I might return in two."

Severus merely nodded, too afraid to speak. When his father turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, darkness again wrapped around the boy.

Keep quiet. Only two more hours. He could do it, he knew it. He had managed it before… His head was hurting so much… and his left arm, which father had twisted earlier… Just keep quiet. Don't make a sound… It was so dark, now even more so after there had been light again… and cold, so cold… Rocking slightly, Severus embraced himself with his good arm. Keep quiet. Keep quiet… He had disappointed father again… He was a shame to his father's name… Keep quiet. Don't disappoint him now… He was weak, worthless…

A low whimper escaped his throat. No! He mustn't! Severus hastily covered his mouth with his hand. Keep quiet! Please, please keep quiet! He was biting his hand, and he felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Slowly, the first tear made its way down his cheek. He willed the next one not to fall, but it would not obey. The third came quicker, and with the fourth came another whimper. No no no, he was crying again…he was disappointing father again…

The door burst open with a loud crack, and through his tears he saw a blurred figure approaching him. But something was wrong, it wasn't father… the man had long, blond hair… and suddenly Severus was not a boy anymore but an adult, naked, stained with clotted blood and dried semen… no, not this, not again… he frantically scrambled away from Lucius, but he was too weak and his trembling body would not obey him… the other man was towering above him, sneering at him, and now he reached out… and all he could do was lie there and cry and beg "Please no… don't… please not again, no no no…"

Touch.

Severus froze. His pleas were reduced to almost imperceptible whimpers.

"Please no…" It could not happen again. "Please no… please no… please no…"

"Shh, Severus… shhh… it's all right…"

More touch.

"Please no…"

"Shhh… it's alright… it's all right… it's Remus… you're safe…" No sneering… no laughter. "You're safe with me, I won't hurt you." It was a friendly voice…

He was held… arms around him…

"Please…" He was still trembling, and the tears would not stop…

"It's all right, you're safe…"

The touch did not hurt… it was soft, tender… his head was resting against a firm chest… a slow, steady rhythm was in his ear… so soothing…

"You're safe… you're safe with me…"

He was safe… he arched closer into the warmth and the tender touch…

"Yes, you're doing well…"

Minutes went by… the other one did not hurt him… it felt so good…

Slowly, the tears and the trembling subsided. But the warmth did not leave, nor did the gentle arms around him, nor the heartbeat to which he was listening. He did not want it to stop… it was so soothing… made him feel so safe… so at peace… step by step it filled out his mind completely… he was tired… so tired…

"… anything wrong?"

Severus blinked. "What?"

"I asked if there was anything wrong. You have been staring into space for… well, quite some time."

Severus turned his gaze towards the other man and saw that he was watching him with concern.

"No," he murmured absent-mindedly. "No, I just… remembered the dream." And then reality caught up with him.

Once again Lupin had seen him cry with fear, had heard him beg and stammer nonsensically, had witnessed how he had debased himself in the worst possible way… had held him, comforted him, guided him back to sleep. Had been there for him when he had needed someone. He was still there for him now, concerned about his well-being. No one ever was, except for Albus, and he could ignore the headmaster, for that matter. But not Lupin. Why? Why was it so different with him? Why did he almost want to trust him?

All this was so unfamiliar, so alien. Severus did not know how to deal with it. One silent second after another passed. The other man's gaze made his skin crawl. It was mortifying.

"Sometimes, I still dream of the werewolf that bit me," Lupin said. He looked away from Severus at his tea, which he now was stirring mechanically. "I have had those dreams ever since I was five, and I should be used to them." His lips curled into a somewhat sad smile. "They're still terrifying."

Slowly, he laid aside the spoon and raised the cup to drink, then put it down again.

"At least I stopped wetting my bed when I was ten. One of my greatest fears was that I would still have that problem when I would be accepted to Hogwarts."

Severus was confused by this confession for some moments, but then he realised the intention behind it. Lupin wanted to help him to overcome his shame, he wanted to tell him that he understood.

"You dreamt of your father, didn't you? Just like in September at Headquarters."

There it was. What should he do now? Just some weeks ago, Severus would not even have asked himself this question. He would merely have sneered at Lupin and left. How dare the werewolf pry like this – Severus's personal matters were none of his business!

But it was not that easy any more… Instead, Severus found himself torn between the almost painful desire to finally confide this part of his past to someone – no, not someone, but Lupin - and the wish to simply get away from all this. Away from his colleague, from his soft voice and his understanding. And it was tempting… so tempting to let go, to share this pain. At least this one. Actually, he had already done so at night. All he had to do was to put it into words.

Almost against his will, Severus felt himself nod. He did not look Lupin in the eyes.

"I…" he began, but trailed off again. It was so difficult to talk about this, and he had to struggle for the right words.

"He was… not an affectionate man," he finally managed, speaking slowly, as if trying to express himself in a seldom used foreign language. He found his gaze glued to his hands, which were wrapped around his cup on the table in front of him.

"He used to beat you," the other man said softly. It was not a question.

Lupin's hands were in his field of vision as well, and the lycanthrope now took his knife and began buttering a piece of toast. They were slender, almost hairless hands with well-groomed nails. Gentle hands as well, so soothing as they had comforted him this night, telling him he could trust their touch, once again reminding him that there existed touch - physical as well as emotional - that did not cause pain. Of course, he had always known this on a mere intellectual level, but experience had taught him otherwise. Suddenly, Severus felt incredibly lonely.

"Yes." The almost inaudible word carried across the silent room.

The hand buttering the toast laid aside the knife, and for a moment Severus thought Lupin might try to touch his hand in a display of sympathy, like many people would have done. But the other man merely reached for the marmalade and then picked up the knife again. Severus was thankful for that. He would not have been able to cope with it, since exposing himself like he had done right now had cost him almost all his strength. He had let Lupin touch him on a non-physical level, and it was almost too much to bear.

His mouth felt terribly dry. Slowly, he forced himself to raise his cup and take a sip of tea. It tasted of nothing, and the dry feeling would not leave. His hunger had vaporised and given way to a slight nausea. When he looked up, the other man was watching him. Severus felt uneasy under the scrutinising gaze and lowered his eyes to the desk again.

There was another moment of silence before his colleague spoke. "Thank you."

"What for?" His surprise shone through in his words, and raising his head, he saw that Lupin was smiling slightly.

"For last night. And for now." There was only sincerity in his voice and eyes. Those understanding hazel eyes. "For trusting me. For letting me come… near you."

The heat that was welling up in him made his fingers numb to the drops of hot tea he spilled as his hands began to shake. The rattling of the porcelain seemed unnaturally loud.

No one wanted to be near him. Experience had taught him that during memorable, painful lessons, and he had learned them well.

Albus had always reached out to him, Severus knew this, but he was indebted far too much to the old wizard to be able to accept it. He knew that Albus felt it was his duty to offer him guidance and friendship, nothing more. It could not be more.

_'Do you have the slightest idea what an effort it costs me to touch you? Your mere existence makes me sick!'_

Yet, Lupin did touch him. Physically, emotionally.

Voluntarily.

He even thanked him for being allowed to do so.

"You're welcome," Severus finally rasped, and in saying so, he realised that it was entirely true. Lupin was welcome in his life.

He wanted to be touched by him.

Lupin offered him the bread basket. "Would you like some toast?"

Suddenly, Severus felt hungry again.


	14. The Wolf Within

**Chapter 14 - The Wolf Within**

****Ten days had passed since Severus's birthday. It was late on Wednesday evening, almost midnight, and he had almost finished grading the last of the essays which he wanted to return to the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw fifth-year class the following morning. He had had a tiresome day, since there had been accidents in most of the classes – Draco Malfoy had actually managed to melt his cauldron as well as create a three feet deep and equally wide hole in the ground of his classroom. Severus had no idea how it was possible that since the beginning of his sixth year, the boy's potions had been disastrous, to say the least. It confused Severus greatly, even more because Malfoy's essays were close to perfect, as they had always been, except for the horribly messy handwriting that had annoyed him ever since Malfoy's first year.

After classes, he had brought Lupin the Wolfsbane Potion, since tonight was the night of the full moon. As always when a transformation lay ahead, the werewolf had looked pale and edgy for the previous few days, but today he had seemed almost scared, although he had been trying to hide it. Severus was not good in reading other people's emotions, but with Lupin it had been rather obvious. It was strange -- Lupin could not possibly be frightened of his monthly transformation? He had been a werewolf even before he had attended school, he was used to it. And he had never seemed to feel particularly uncomfortable about it, as far as Severus could tell.

He had, however, not investigated further. Being a private person himself, he did not take a liking to prying. Moreover, Severus still was not sure how exactly he should behave in the other man's presence. All of this was so new and unfamiliar, and he did not want to unknowingly overstep any borders. He did not want to risk what had built between him and his colleague by asking unwanted questions, even though, as he had to admit, he was feeling rather concerned about him -- a most disconcerting experience indeed.

The evening he had spent with research in the library and some experiments in his lab, trying to improve the Imperius Potion. The first test series on Saturday had been a disaster. Severus shuddered and almost knocked over the bottle with red ink as he thought back to it. Of course, the potion had not worked, but instead had poisoned the Muggles who had been forced to drink it. None of them had survived.

The Dark Lord had been livid, but had reigned in his temper and not punished Severus immediately, knowing that this would not serve his purpose. Instead, he had ordered him to examine the corpses, as Severus had foreseen he would. He would rather have suffered the Cruciatus Curse over an extended period of time than being forced to perform this gruesome task, but of course he had had no choice. When he had become the Dark Lord's potions brewer in the first war, his master had decided that it would be beneficial if he acquired extensive medical knowledge as well, and so Severus had been tutored by a healer who had joined the Death Eaters, teaching him all he needed to know.

Although he would rather not have been forced to obtain it, his medical knowledge now proved to be useful whenever he returned injured from a summoning. If he was not too badly wounded, he could heal himself instead of having to rely on Madam Pomfrey's help. Ever since he had finally escaped the mediwitch's care fifteen years ago, when she had treated him after his release from Azkaban, he had made an effort of seeing as little of her as possible. Knowing she had only done her duty as a mediwitch, he still could not help but feel abashed to the core when thinking of the time he had spent under her care. All the countless times he had got wrapped up in flashbacks, had broken down in her presence. All those times she had had to use the Mentis Apertae Potion on him, soothing him, holding him. All those times he had shown himself utterly weak and vulnerable in front of her…

Angrily, Severus pushed aside these thoughts. That time - it had lasted for almost a year - was over! Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to direct his attention back to the wish-wash his students chose to call "essays". His expectations had not been disappointed, as he thought grimly, ten minutes later smearing the last "D" at the bottom of a parchment that – now that he had finished with it – seemed to have more red than black ink on it. This particular student would most certainly not plague him after the O.W.L. exams any longer. Satisfied at this thought, he got up and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Severus sighed tiredly as he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth. He could not afford to displease the Dark Lord even more; he would have to spend all his free time on successfully finishing the Imperius Potion as soon as possible. The thought left a sinking feeling in his stomach. The sooner the potion would be ready for the second test series, the sooner he would have to deal once again with the horrors which went along with that. He only hoped that not too many more test series would be necessary – the better he worked, the less Muggles would have to die.

Depressing thoughts like these had done nothing to make this day more pleasant. On top of it all, Severus had a nagging headache that he could not get rid of, even though he had taken a painkilling potion in the afternoon. He knew that the headache was due to lack of sleep, and sleep alone would cure it, but this was exactly the problem. Falling asleep in the first place had recently become a highly difficult task, not to speak of actually staying asleep for longer than one or two hours.

Taking in the picture that presented itself to him in the mirror, Severus found that without the Glamour Charm he began to look more and more like a ghost. Not that he cared about his appearance anyway, but it was, to a certain extent, frightening how much he had changed since he had resumed his spying. Averting his eyes from the offending sight, he dragged himself into his bedroom to change into his nightshirt. Pathetic as it was, he truly hoped that Potter would get the opportunity to finish with the Dark Lord sooner rather than later. He was not sure how long he would be able to go on like this.

Having turned off the candles with a flick of his wand, Severus finally climbed into bed, but instead of lying down, he merely sat cross-legged and pulled the blanket over his lap. Breathing evenly, he tried to rid his mind of all the unpleasant and troubling thoughts which constantly kept imposing themselves on him.

_"Clear your mind!"_ – how often had he commanded Potter to do so during the Occlumency lessons last year? And how often had he sneered at the boy's sheer incapacity to perform this simple task? Now Severus found that he, himself, was incapable of it as well at the moment. Instead of slowly fading away, the chaos in his mind seemed to become even bigger, louder, more and more overwhelming.

Pictures of the test series four days ago slipped into his mind, pictures he wanted to forget as soon as possible, yet knowing from experience that he would never be able to do so. During the last sixteen years, he had not been able to forget for a single day…

The children were what was worst. Looking at them and knowing they would never grow to be insufferable, annoying teenagers who caused their teachers one headache after another with their substandard homework and constant inattention… knowing their lives would end at his hands…

* * *

_"Mummy… please, where's my mummy?" The girl with her head full of curly red hair was no more than five years old. She was shivering with cold in the damp dungeon, her cheeks clammy from tears, her brown eyes looking up at him wide with fear. _

_"Please, can I go to my mummy?" _

"Yes, you may go to her," Severus replied, forcing himself to speak calmly as he thought of the equally red-haired woman that was lying in the dungeon next to this in a puddle of thrown up blood, her eyes blank and lifeless, her body already going stiff.

"Just drink this first," he continued, producing a vial of Imperius Potion and kneeling down next to the small, shivering form.

"And then I can se my mummy?" Severus almost cringed at the desperate hope in her voice.

"Yes," he ground out hoarsely. "She is already waiting for you." He felt as if he might suffocate at any moment.

He could simply have stunned the girl and forced the liquid down her throat, but doing so seemed… wrong. With great effort, he suppressed an insane chuckle at this thought; as if it would matter in the slightest – all this was about as wrong as anything could ever be.

The large eyes darted doubtfully back and forth between his face and the vial in his hand, and drawn by a sudden impulse, Severus slowly put his free arm around the narrow shoulders, causing the child to first flinch and then shyly lean into the comforting touch.

"Now drink," he ordered, putting the vial to her lips, "then you will see your mother." It was not a lie, and it obviously soothed the frightened child. More than anything, though, it made Severus loathe himself more than he had ever thought possible.

Throwing him a last frightened glance, the girl nodded, and he quickly poured the potion down her throat, feeling his own stomach give a painful twist as she swallowed.

Her expression changed from scared to disgusted at the taste, but only moments after she had emptied the vial, her face contorted into a grimace of pain and she doubled over, her small hands clutching her stomach. She whimpered and instinctively tried to hide in the adult's arms, but Severus hastily jerked his arm away from her and got to his feet, taking a step backwards. It felt obscenely wrong that the child he had just condemned to death should turn to him for comfort!

The girl had fallen to the ground and lay curled up on herself, still clutching her stomach, now again crying weakly. Mechanically, Severus activated the stopwatch on the desk nearby to see how long it would take for her to die.

Not much over a minute went by until the first convulsion shook the frail form on the ground. Her thin arms and legs were jerking uncontrollably. When finally the seizure had abated, she shakily raised herself on one elbow and looked up at Severus pleadingly.

"M-mummy? …w-want mum-my…"

Her arm gave in again, but before her head could hit the ground, Severus was by her side and had gathered her in his arms, not caring that she had begun to throw up and now blood was staining his robes everywhere. He had no soothing words for her, but held the dying child until finally the last violent convulsions abated and she went completely limp in his arms, the wide brown eyes staring at him lifelessly.

The stopwatch showed forty-two minutes and eleven seconds when at last he was able to detach his gaze from them.

* * *

Severus shook his head in a rather pathetic attempt to force the images out of his head. During the last four days, they had assailed him whenever he had allowed his mind to wander, whenever he had not strictly concentrated on his work. 

_"Please, can I go to my mummy?" Frightened eyes staring at him, pleading with him… the frail form in his arms wracked by spasms… the scalpel he had used on the corpse only atwo hours later…_

As of their own volition, Severus' s arms began to move, wrapping themselves tightly around his body. Holding himself securely, he now began to slowly rock back and forth, once, twice, again and again, back and forth, back and forth…

Severus had done this to calm himself for as long as he could think back. Maybe it had started when he had been four years old and his father had begun to regularly lock him up in the cellar. It had helped to make the fear go away – or at least to lessen it a little – as he had been cowering in the cold darkness, sometimes for hours, never knowing when he would be released from his prison and if a beating was waiting for him outside.

He would do it when his mother and his father had been shouting at each other in the evening, not caring that their son could hear them in his room. He did not want to hear it, especially when his mother's shouts had eventually given way to cries of pain almost every time, and it had helped to shut out the world, to withdraw into himself, and to finally fall asleep.

When his mother had died shortly after his seventh birthday, it had become even more of a necessity. Willing himself not to cry, he had spent whole afternoons sitting on his bed, softly rocking himself in the attempt to soothe the pain he felt at her loss. A Snape did not cry. And Severus would not disappoint his father.

Fortunately, the beds at Hogwarts were equipped with curtains. None of his dorm-mates had ever tried to speak with the unpopular boy once he had drawn them shut, and so none of them had ever caught a glimpse at him as he had rocked himself to sleep most of the nights of his seven years at school, unable to overcome the fear of his nightmares in any other way.

Having joined the Death Eaters, he had found soon that he could not do many of the things required of him with a clear conscience. For months, the monotonous, mind-numbing movement had helped him to withdraw from the horrible images filling his mind, until finally he could take it no longer and had exposed himself to the mercy of his old headmaster.

Sometimes it seemed to him that during the week he had spent as Lucius's prisoner, this way of comforting himself had been the only thing that had grounded him to sanity. It had been like an anchor, and for hours and hours he had been cowering on the stone floor of the dungeon, solely concentrating on rocking himself, until he did no longer feel his battered body, the anguish, and the fear.

Now, sixteen years later, Severus was still every bit as pathetic as back then. Unable to take any sleeping or calming draughts, he sometimes bitterly wondered what his colleagues or even students would think if they knew that almost every evening Severus Snape, cold, arrogant, aloof Severus Snape, needed to be rocked to sleep like a frightened child.

Right now, even this did not help to completely ban the mental images.

_Crimson lips in a pale, small face… crimson because it was blood that was lingering on them… her soft, curly hair, now sweaty and sticking to her forehead… small hands clinging to his robes as the shaking girl had buried her face in his chest… the sharp blade of the scalpel, slowly making its way through pale flesh…_

Involuntarily letting out a hoarse, strangled sound, Severus tightened his grip around himself, his fingers digging painfully into his arms.

_They had burnt the corpses after the autopsies… five men, three women, two children… "Nice fire, eh? At least they're good for something." Nott's sneering voice, his coarse face illuminated by the flickering flames…_

Don't think of it any more… focus on the movement… nothing else… back… forth… back… forth… don't think… don't feel… just forget…

_"M-mummy? …w-want mum-my…"_

Forget, please forget…

* * *

At the same time, in a quarter in the east wing of the castle, a large wolf with greyish brown fur was pacing restlessly in front of the fireplace. A deep, guttural growl would escape his throat every so often, and his amber eyes were flickering as though a fire had been lit in them. 

Remus could hear the wolf rage in the back of his mind, barely restrained by the potion he used to hold his violent instincts under control. It took all of his willpower not to let the beast inside him take control, and this was not due to any flaw in the Wolfsbane Potion. No, Remus knew all too well what had caused the wolf to grow more and more powerful during the last months. So powerful in fact, that he was not convinced at all that he would be able to hold him at bay this night. During the last full moon, it had already been an almost impossible struggle, and by the end of the night he had been completely exhausted, physically as well as emotionally.

The large canine stopped his pacing before the window, the moonlight shimmering silvery in his fur. He sat down, tossing his head back into his neck, and had Remus not cast Silencing Charms on his quarters before the transformation, the corridors of the castle would have resounded with his howling, loud and wild, full of unrestrained fury and pain.

It was tempting to let go, so tempting to just let himself be taken over by the powerful force that pushed to the surface. Ever since last summer, the full moons had become more and more difficult to endure, had become more of a torture than they had ever been. Ever since last summer. Ever since Sirius had died.  
Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone, and the wolf suffered from the loss every bit as much as Remus did. But the wolf did not reason. He did not listen to logic, did not care that indeed Remus could not have done anything to prevent Sirius from what he had done, despite of using force to restrain him at Grimmauld Place. All he did was feel. Feel the sadness, the loneliness, the pain and anger. And the guilt his human counterpart tried to suppress with logical arguments.

He jumped at this guilt, bathed in it, threw it at Remus during every full moon. _He_ was to blame that his loved one was dead! _He_ should have done something! _He_ should have known! It was _his_ fault that he was lonely now, _his_ fault that he was hurting, _his_, and no one else's! He needed to pay, needed to suffer for it! The wolf wanted to take out his fury on himself, if only Remus let him do it. If only he let go.

Remus had resumed his restless wandering through the living room, from wall to wall, again and again, vainly trying to ignore the wolf, ignore the anguish, the guilt. He _should_ have known! Should have done something! Should have been there!

The barrier that was restraining the wolf was only paper-thin by now. Remus was not as strong as he had been last month, and the wolf did not give in, did not stop. He was guilty, was weak, had failed to protect the man he loved! He _deserved_ to be in pain, _deserved_ to be punished for it! Desperately, he howled out his agony at the moon again, trying to let out the raging emotions in an other way. But it was no use, and only more fury welled up inside him, more grief, more pain.

And deep inside, his human part knew that the wolf was right. He was guilty. With this last clear thought, Remus finally surrendered, and sharp teeth sank deeply into flesh. The pain was a sweet relief.

* * *

At half past four in the morning, Severus finally gave up. He had slept for three hours, at the most, and this sleep had been shredded by dreams of dying people on a bare stone floor, and of large, brown eyes, wide and lifeless as they still seemed to plead with him, begging him for something that he could not do.  
Those dreams had mingled with others, dreams of himself in a dungeon, regarded by cold, grey eyes, and a vicious voice, hissing something that sounded like "Happy Birthday". This made no sense at all, but filled him with a sense of dread that had almost sent him into a panic attack as he had awoken, shaking and drenched in cold sweat. 

Sighing, Severus got out of bed and showered, trying to relax at least a little under the hot water. It would be another long day full of ignorant students and tiring research for the Imperius Potion. At least, he thought with a hint of relief as he buttoned his robe, he would indeed not be forced to teach Potter Occlumency again. After breakfast with Lupin ten days ago, he had visited Albus in his office and had reported what their enemy had ordered him to do. And, as he had hoped, the headmaster had announced that he, himself, would teach the boy this time, since there was no danger that the Dark Lord would try to use Potter as a tool to attack the old wizard. Therefore, the brat would have Occlumency lessons with the headmaster three times a week, for it was crucial that he learn this skill as soon as possible. Severus could not string along his master forever.

With these thoughts in mind, he finally entered his living room, wondering what he should do until breakfast in the Great Hall would be served. He still had some hours until then, and maybe he should use them to work on his tasks for the Dark Lord. Severus was already on his way to the door of his lab, when his gaze fell on something that made him reconsider his plans. Slowly, he went over to one of the bookshelves which lined the stone walls and took out two volumes, a thick and a smaller one. He then settled down on the sofa, allowing the hint of a smile to tug at his lips as he looked down at the books in his hands.

He had been more than surprised when after breakfast on Monday nine days ago, Lupin had fetched a packet that had been lying on the table in front of the fireplace and handed it to him. He had only ever received birthday presents from Albus Dumbledore, who did not seem willing to give up this frivolous tradition. This time, he had presented Severus with striped socks – red and yellow – something that established a new record in uselessness, and a small bag of sherbet lemons. Severus asked himself if the old man had paid attention to the fact that during the last sixteen years, Severus had never accepted one of the proffered sweets. But he had put the gift to good use, for it had been considerably amusing to see Lupin's puzzled face when on Friday evening Severus had produced the bag from a pocket of his robes and had asked "Sherbet lemon, Lupin?" in a most casual tone. The other man's warm laughter after this, however, had been even more pleasant.

Severus remembered how he had unwrapped the blue paper and his gaze had fallen on the title: "Geoffrey Chaucer, Canterbury Tales". He had felt pleased that Lupin had remembered his liking for the ancient literature – but his colleague seemed to have forgotten that he already possessed this book. Of course, Severus would not mention this; the fact alone that Lupin had made him a gift, and even a so considerate one, was more than enough to let a downright ridiculous amount of joy surge up in him.

Then, however, he had opened the volume on a random page and begun to read, and he had realised that Lupin had been even more considerate than he had imagined.

_The queene thanketh the kyng with al hir myght,  
And after this thus spak she to the knyght,  
Whan that she saugh hir tyme, upon a day,  
"Thou standest yet," quod she, "in swich array  
That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee.  
I grante thee lyf, if thou kanst tellen me  
What thyng it is that wommen moost desiren.  
Be war and keep thy nekke-boon from iren!  
And if thou kanst nat tellen it anon,  
Yet shal I yeve thee leve for to gon  
A twelf-month and a day to seche and leere  
And answere suffisante in this mateere;  
And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace,  
Thy body for to yelden in this place."_

Lupin had not simply given him a copy of the Canterbury Tales, but one in the language in which the tales had originally been written, Middle English. He then had remembered that indeed he had mentioned that he would find it quite interesting to some day read the original version. Regarding the second book, he had found it to be an introduction to Middle English history, pronunciation, grammar and vocabulary. When he finally had managed to thank the other man, he had been rewarded with a brilliant smile, and somehow this had brightened his day even more than any gift would have been able to.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to read the books, he had not found time to do it until now, his curriculum and work for the Dark Lord leaving him practically no time to spend on whatever kind of amusement. Now, however, at five in the morning, he decided to take the time to at least gain a brief insight in the subject. After ordering a house elf to bring him a cup of tea, Severus opened the smaller book and began to read.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Finally, the time for breakfast had arrived, and Severus made his way to the Great Hall, effectively scaring some tiny first-years as he swept though the entrance and towards the teacher's table, his usual scowl and Glamour Charm well in place. Upon arriving, he noticed that Lupin's seat was not occupied. He had expected this, for his colleague would need a day to recover from the painful and exhausting transformation he had undergone the previous night.

"Good morning," Albus greeted him as he took his seat next to the headmaster. Severus nodded in response and reached for the teapot. He was not truly hungry and would content himself with something to drink, as usual ignoring Albus's concerned comments on that fact.

"Severus," the old wizard now went on, his voice laced with obvious worry, "I must ask you to not only cover half of the Defence classes for today and tomorrow, but also at the beginning of next week."

"Why? Has anything happened?" Severus forced himself to stay calm at this announcement, but it was a most trying task. Was there anything wrong with Lupin?

The headmaster shook his head. "I do not quite know what exactly happened, or why. It seems that during the last night, Remus inflicted severe harm on himself – just like he used to do without the Wolfsbane Potion, if not worse. You know that Poppy usually has a look at him in the morning; today she found him unconscious and badly mauled. We could not ask him what happened, because he has not yet awoken."

"That's impossible!" Severus put down the teapot with a loud "thud". This and his agitated words drew the attention of several students to the teacher's table, and Albus gestured him to calm down.

"I know, it seems most strange. You did give him the potion, did you not?"

"Of course I did," Severus hissed angrily. He did not like at all the implications of this. Could he have made a mistake in brewing the potion, exhausted and overworked as he was these days? Or had Lupin not taken it? But why should he do something so stupid? Remembering the other man's odd behaviour the evening before, he suddenly was sure that the werewolf must have expected something to happen. Why had he not told anyone? Severus asked himself.

Even more than these, though, another thought was occupying his mind: He needed to see Lupin. He needed to convince himself that he was not in danger any more. Unfortunately, this would have to wait until the end of classes – something that displeased Severus greatly.

"I take it that he now is in the hospital wing?"

Albus having answered in the affirmative, Severus pushed away his cup and stood. "I will see him this afternoon. Maybe he can tell me the reason, or he has noticed something unusual that could help me altering the potion to make sure something like this does not happen again."

The last thing he saw before he strode away from the table to go to his classroom and prepare the first lesson was the merry twinkle in the headmaster's blue eyes.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Watching Severus leave the Great Hall, Albus could not help feeling pleased by how things between Remus and him were developing. On Monday evening after Severus's birthday, Remus had paid the headmaster a visit in his office, telling him that now he had found out why Severus considered it his duty to continue spying on Voldemort. He had, however, not revealed his knowledge to Albus, declaring that he did not want to betray Severus's trust even more.

Albus had smiled to himself at hearing this, since he had not the slightest objections. As much as he would like to know what exactly was driving Severus to expose himself to a torture like this, he knew that he could not do anything. The main thing was that Severus was beginning to trust Remus. He, Albus, would take a back seat and content himself with the knowledge that his child was no longer alone with his burden.

And there was even more to it than that. Although Severus had tried to conceal it, Albus had noticed that indeed he had been more than a little worried at hearing the news about Remus's condition. Smiling to himself, the old wizard began filling a bowl with porridge.

Hopefully, it would not take too long until Remus, either, was no longer alone with his troubles.

* * *

The morning crept by excruciatingly slowly. To Severus it seemed that today the students were even more thick-headed than normally, and had there been an award for idiocy to bestow upon the one whose work bore the closest resemblance to Longbottom's pathetic attempts on brewing, he would not have been able to choose between about a dozen absolutely inapt dunderheads. 

And while he was glaring, scowling and flaying subdued children alive, all he could think of was Lupin. Had he or had he not taken the Wolfsbane Potion? If not – why? If yes – why had it not worked? Had it been _his_ fault? _Had_ he made a mistake? He could not imagine it, but what other reason could there be?  
Lunch was a torture. He was not hungry, not at all, and if Albus should dare to ask him one more time if he was sure that he did "not want to at least try these downright delicious lamb chops, Severus?", he would hex him in front of the entire Great Hall!

The afternoon was worse. The first- and second-years left his classroom thoroughly terrified. How was Lupin? Albus had talked about "severe harm", and "badly mauled" – what did he mean by that? Would there be consequences? Was it worse than when there had been no Wolfsbane Potion? If only lessons were over soon!

Finally, the bell announced the end of the last lesson. It took a rather large amount of willpower to not simply storm out of the room immediately, but instead wait patiently until each and every student had cleared away their ingredients and instruments and left the classroom. Once the last one was gone, however, he, too, left the dungeons and hurried straight to the hospital wing, several students hastily jumping out of his way as they saw the dark figure in billowing robes approaching.

Before the doors of the infirmary, he finally came to a halt. What if Lupin did not want him to visit? He had been so ridiculously worried about the man – why, precisely, he had chosen not to ponder too deeply – that he had not even thought of this possibility. Oh, but this was absurd, he chided himself. If he, Severus, had been injured, Lupin would have paid him a visit, he was sure of that. It would be the kind of thing Lupin would do. So why should he not do the same? Surely Lupin would be pleased about it, and Severus liked the silly thought very much that his presence should have such an effect on his colleague.  
Moreover, he needed to know what had happened, since he was entrusted with brewing the potion that was supposed to prevent such an incident from happening. Taking a deep breath, Severus opened the door and entered. The thought that he was here on business made him feel considerably calmer.

Approaching the only occupied bed of the infirmary, the sight with which he was presented made Severus's stomach clench. Lupin was lying there with his eyes closed, propped up against some pillows, a bandage soaked with crimson wrapped around his head, several nasty scratches adorning his prematurely aged features. His pyjama was not buttoned, which was why Severus could see that his chest, too, was hidden under thick bandages. Not knowing whether his colleague was sleeping or merely resting, he silently took seat on the chair beside the bed.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The sound of slow steps in the otherwise quiet infirmary made Remus wake from a light slumber. Exhausted though he was, he had not been able to truly fall asleep, his pulse beat throbbing most unpleasantly in his wounds – a sensation he had always hated with a passion. He heard the steps stopping beside the bed, and then the scratching of the chair on the floor. His eyes fluttering open, he beheld the sight of Severus Snape, looking at him with obvious concern. This caused a faint smile to steal on Remus's lips.

"Severus," he croaked, his throat sore from the strain of the previous night.

"Lupin."

He was looking better than usual, Remus thought, but this illusion was quickly destroyed, for now his colleague's outlines became blurred for some moments, during which the Glamour Charm failed to conceal his worn out appearance.

"How are you feeling?"

Remus could not help smiling more. To hear this question from the lips of Severus Snape – he would have laughed at anyone who would have predicted this to him some months ago.

"It's tolerable. Poppy has dosed me with some nice painkillers, so I barely feel anything at all." He paused to take a glass of water from the nightstand and wet his dry throat. Having put it away again, his gaze returned to Severus. "It's nice that you have come."

The other man blinked, irritated, but then replied levelly "It was my potion, after all, which seemingly has failed to work properly. And," he added after some moments, now sounding a little confused, "I wanted to know how you are."

Remus smiled again. It felt more than only "nice" that Severus was indeed concerned about his well-being. "Thank you. I appreciate it very much. It can become quite boring here."

Severus nodded curtly, obviously deciding to change the subject as he went on "You did take the Wolfsbane Potion, didn't you?"

"Yes, of course I did." He saw Severus's expression darken at his reply.

"I do apologise, then. Obviously, I must have made a mistake in brewing it. I don't recall it, but I assure you that it will not –"

"There was nothing wrong with the potion," Remus interrupted tiredly. By Merlin, how he wished it was nothing more than that!

"There must have been," a now visibly confused Severus insisted. "I cannot think of any reason why it should simply fail working, except for a mistake in its preparation."

Remus sighed, closing his eyes. It was time to tell now, wasn't it? He had feigned sleep when Albus had come to see him after breakfast as well as after lunch, and he had managed to get rid of Poppy by promising her that he would talk to the headmaster as soon as he would visit again. Opening his eyes again, he was once more presented with the sight of a severely concerned Severus. Finally, he could bring himself to speak.

"I can assure you that the potion was perfect as always. This has nothing to do with it. It's about… Sirius."

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Black?" Severus was utterly bemused. This was making no sense at all. What could he possibly have to do with it? The man had been dead for months now.

"Yes," Lupin nodded, the pain edged in his features becoming more prominent. "Ever since he died, it's been… difficult to keep the wolf under control, even with the help of the potion. The wolf is grieving, and he's becoming stronger every month."

Severus frowned. He had never heard of anything like this before. Separation from the person a werewolf loved causing the wolfish part to overcome the potion that was restraining him? It should be impossible, for all he knew.

"Why haven't you told anyone?" he demanded louder than he had intended. "I might have been able to alter the potion. There was no need for… this." He waved a hand loosely in the direction of the bandage around the other man's head, feeling annoyed by what he had learned. Lupin should have informed him!

-.-.-.-.-.-

Remus was mildly surprised by Severus's reaction, and, as he realised in astonishment, pleased that his colleague seemed so upset at the thought of him being hurt. Was it not strange? He had not been able to bear anyone being concerned about him during the last months, but he had no objections when it was Severus. On the contrary – where he had felt cornered and almost threatened by other people's concerned and sympathetic behaviour, he now felt almost… cared for. Suddenly, it seemed that talking about it might not be impossible.

"I didn't want to talk about it." He closed his eyes once more, concentrating on the words. "I hoped I would be able to handle it on my own. You see… I think it could only happen because I… I feel guilty for not having prevented him from going to the Ministry that night." His voice had become softer with every word, and the throbbing of his pulse beat in his wounds seemed have to intensified painfully. "I know it's irrational, but the wolf doesn't, he just feels. He needs to blame someone. He needs to punish someone for his loss. Only that this someone is he, himself."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Severus did not know what to say. Lupin feeling guilty for Black's death? It was irrational indeed. He could not have done anything to prevent it! How should he have known the irresponsible mutt would just rush off, not caring about the danger he got himself into? He had not been Black's nanny, after all.

"Still, you should have informed someone. Albus, or me. This is dangerous!" Severus did not even want to think about what could have happened. A grown werewolf taking out all his anguish and guilt on himself – Lupin was lucky he had gotten off this lightly. "How could you be so careless? You cannot possibly have thought you _deserved_ it?"

The sharply uttered words were out before he could think twice, and only a second later he could have bitten his tongue off for not taking better care. Lupin's eyes snapped open as his hands clenched tightly around the sheets, he pressed his lips together to a thin line, and his already ashen face paled even more. Staring at him, Severus could not help thinking how fragile he was looking right now, not physically, but in a way he, himself, knew all too well.

He felt himself be overcome by the desire to do something to comfort his colleague, but he did not know what. Slowly, he reached out to touch one of the hands still clutching the sheets, only to draw back again. He could not bring himself to do this, as much as he wanted to. Not yet.

"I'm sorry, Lupin," he finally managed, feeling rather pathetic for not being capable of doing more.

"No, it's okay. It had to be said sooner or later, I guess. It's just… I cant... I don't know."

Severus felt disgustingly helpless. He was not the right person for this. Albus should be in his place, or maybe Madame Pomfrey; someone who was used to this kind of conversation. Certainly not he. Sighing, he buried his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. The headache that had not vanished in the course of the day was becoming stronger again.

"You're not looking too well, either. You haven't slept that much, have you?"

Not looking up, Severus simply shook his head. He did not even think of the fact that the Glamour Charm should not have Lupin allowed to see it.

"Dreams again?"

Just two softly spoken words, but enough to make his whole body tense. Severus raised his gaze to face the other man.

"I was summoned on Saturday. Do you remember what I told you about testing the Imperius Potion?"  
Lupin nodded slowly.

"They died, as I told you they would." He seemed to choke on the words. "The children were what was worst, a boy and a girl. She was only five years old!" His hands had begun shaking, and he clenched them to fists in his lap.

"Isn't it absurd that it felt wrong to just force her to drink? Instead, I tried to convince her, even tried to soothe her. As if it had mattered!" Suddenly, he needed to tell, needed to get this off his chest. "She asked for her mother. I… I told her she could see her after drinking the potion. That she was… waiting for her." He dropped his gaze to the floor. "The woman was already dead." Telling it instead of just remembering made him feel even more disgusted with himself.

"It worked. She drank… and then she died. She died in my arms… hell, Lupin, she was taking comfort in _me_, who had just poisoned her!"

And those eyes.

"I cannot forget her. Or the others." His voice was a mere whisper by now. "I would be glad if it was only my father of whom I dream."

Finally, after some minutes of silence, Lupin spoke. "Thank you for coming, Severus. I'm glad it was you with whom I could talk about it."

Looking up at the man in the bed, Severus knew that Lupin meant what he had said. And he also realised that this acceptance meant more to him than he would ever have imagined.

"I _will_ find a solution concerning the Wolfsbane. That's a promise."


	15. Dinners and Lies

**Chapter 15 – Dinners and Lies**

During the next few days, Severus visited Remus every evening. He never stayed longer than an hour, and their conversations usually circled around their students – Remus listening patiently as Severus found it necessary to point out yet again just why he despised each and every one of them. Remus was sure many others would have found this annoying, and although he could not agree with Severus in the slightest, he enjoyed this more than any other time of the day. The mere fact that Severus willingly came to see him and talk to him every day made him hopeful for the future. It really appeared that the ice between them had been broken, and although the atmosphere turned awkward as soon as they would touch at any personal subject, he was content with the fact that it, even if seldom, happened at all.

Moreover, Severus's visits helped him to get his thoughts off Sirius, if only for a short time – something that was particularly difficult during the days after the full moon. Harry, who stopped by on Saturday morning, did not manage to do so, and Remus almost felt a little guilty for it.

Therefore, he was a little disappointed when on Tuesday morning, Poppy announced that he was well enough to return to his quarters. She forbid him to teach for at least another day, then ushered him out of the door with the advice that he better take care of himself, her brusque tone hardly concealing the worry about what would happen at the next full moon. Remus doubted that Severus would continue his daily visits, now that he was out of the infirmary – now that he was not officially sick any more.

He spent the day mostly on the sofa with a book, deciding that he could prepare his classes for Thursday the next day. His right hip and side, where he had several long and deep gashes, were hurting, and he was glad he did not have to move. On the other hand, he was determined to not stay away from the classroom any longer than necessary – Severus had enough to worry about. He most certainly did not need the additional burden of teaching more classes over a prolonged period of time.

It was shortly after seven in the evening, and he had just been about to have dinner in the living room, not yet feeling up to going to the Great Hall, when Remus heard a by now familiar curt knocking on the door to his quarters. Smiling, he laid aside the fork – it was Severus.

"Yes, come in."

After he had entered, Severus got to the point immediately.

"Madam Pomfrey told me she had released you. It's good you seem to be better. I wanted to ask you for how much longer you will be indisposed."

Remus's face fell a little – was that the only reason for Severus's visit? He had not even closed the door behind himself.

"Just tomorrow, thank you," he replied, trying not to let his disappointment show. "I don't want to burden you with more work than necessary."

.-.-.-.-.

Severus was surprised. He would not have thought Lupin would take up work again so quickly. He looked as though he could need some more days of rest. But then – it was hardly his place to tell him so, was it?

"Well, then... if you think you're up to it..." Severus hesitated, but realised he did not know anything more to say that would have justified him staying for a little longer. It was not Friday, and Lupin was not in the infirmary any more, either. "I have to go. I still have some research to do in the library. Good evening, Lupin."

He had already turned and was heading for the door when Lupin called him back: "Wait! It's dinner time. Won't you eat with me? That potion can wait for half an hour, right?"

Actually, it was improvements on the Wolfsbane Potion that Severus wanted to research, not the Imperius Potion as the other man probably assumed, but he said nothing. He was too busy concealing his relief at the prospect of spending some time with his colleague. This particular evening, he needed it more than during the preceding few. His last class of the day had been a fifth-year Gryffindor/Slytherin Double Potions, and the one before had been a stand-in class for Lupin with the same students. He had spent both classes with the desperate and rather pointless attempt to ignore Ginevra Weasley, who had immediately conjured up the image of the dead red-headed girl in his mind the second his eyes had fallen on her. At the end of the Potions class, he had been determinedly staring down at his desk, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, while the students had been trying to complete their potions without breathing, not keen at all on falling prey to whatever dark mood had befallen their teacher now.

Severus nodded and closed the door, then sat down with Lupin, who called a house-elf to bring him something to eat. He had not had the intention to have dinner tonight - the Great Hall with all the people was the last place he could possibly want to be after this day, and the mere idea of eating had sickened him. Lupin's presence, however, seemed to change this, for whatever inexplicable reason: after half an hour, Severus had almost emptied his plate.

They had not talked much – Severus had not felt up to it, and thankfully, Lupin had not tried again when it had become obvious that he would not get anything but short, vague answers. Severus found that this was also something he liked about the other man: there were few people with whom he could talk, and even fewer with whom one could_ not_ talk without the silence being an awkward one.

He did not know how Lupin had managed it, doing nothing but _being there_, but after dinner, he felt much better than he had before - even the lifeless brown eyes which had haunted him for the previous hours had temporarily disappeared. Maybe it was the simple fact that Lupin had invited him to stay, that he showed that he appreciated Severus's presence - also outside their fixed appointments, or exceptional circumstances.

Therefore, he was even more resolved to spend the evening, like the previous one, with the attempt to find some kind of solution for Lupin's problem. The Dark Lord would be displeased about the delay concerning the Imperius Potion, but Severus knew he did not have to fear too much. His master might be a madman, but he was not stupid – if he punished him too often and excessively with his favourite curse, the Cruciatus, the nerve damage would in the end render Severus useless as potions brewer. The Dark Lord needed him, and he knew it.

.-.-.-.-.

Remus, too, was glad about how things had developed. Severus's willingness to stay as soon as Remus had asked him had lifted his spirits considerably. When both of them had finished their food, he got up to bring Severus to the door, but immediately, he slumped down on his chair again with a pained groan, pressing a hand to his injured hip. He had felt so cheerful that he had not even thought about it any more and had moved far too carelessly – although the term "not ridiculously slowly and carefully" would have been more adequate. Poppy had bestowed him with a generous amount of painkilling potion, but he had only taken a minimal dose to keep the worst pain in check. For a reason he knew but did not want to think about, he wanted to feel this, wanted to be remembered of what had happened, and why.

When the pain had abated a little, he noticed that Severus was observing him apprehensively. For some moments, the other man said nothing, then he seemed to have made a decision.

"I will teach your classes for the rest of the week," he announced in a voice that Remus supposed he usually used in class when reprimanding a particularly foolish student. "The last thing I need is you to overwork and then have a relapse – which would result in even more work for me."

"No, I'm fine, I can -" Just like to contradict him, a sharp pain now surged through his side and made him gasp – now he was even being punished for breathing too deeply!

"Don't be ridiculous." Severus sounded determined to tolerate no objections, and Remus nodded in defeat. As much as he disliked it, his colleague was right. Remus would not do him a favour if he asked too much of himself now.

"All right." He smiled faintly. "Thank you. I know you're under much stress lately. I appreciate what you're doing for me." After a moment of thinking, he added, "Would you like to stop by for dinner again tomorrow? I don't think I'll make it to the Great Hall."

Severus seemed to hesitate for a second, then he nodded curtly. "Yes, I would like that. But now I have to go." He gave Remus a pointed look before he turned to leave. "Don't bother getting up. I assure you that I will find the door on my own."

Even though it did not do his side any good, Remus could not help laughing. "See you tomorrow, then."

* * *

Monday evening found both Severus and Lupin, who was now limping around with the help of a cane, in the Great Hall for dinner. They had indeed eaten together on Wednesday, as well as on the remaining four days of the week. Each evening, Lupin had invited Severus to come back the next day, saying he did not "feel up" to eating with the rest of the school again, and Severus had accepted, even though he was sure it was no more than an excuse. But unlike he would have done some weeks ago, he did not care about this any longer. Instead, he had contented himself with the pleasant feeling that Lupin seemed to value his presence so much that he even wanted to see him on a daily basis. It was surprising how easily he had got used to this in only a few days – and how much he missed it now.

He lifted his gaze from the plate with the barely touched food, only to find himself beholding the Weasley girl, who was hurrying toward the Gryffindor table, obviously being late for dinner. She flopped down on the bench unceremoniously and instantly began chattering away at one of her friends in an excited manner, raking a hand through the long, red hair that was tousled from running.

"Severus, are you not well?" the headmaster's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

Severus clenched his fist around the fork and forced himself to look away from the girl. "Thank you, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

He was not able to bear the old man's worried look for more than a few moments, though, and therefore found himself staring at his plate once more, forcing another spoonful of vegetables down his throat, if only to prevent any other concerned questions. With Lupin, it was so entirely different, and not for the first time this evening did he wish they could have gone on with having dinner in private. But of course, that was not really an option. As teachers, they had to regularly participate in the official meals.

Only ten minutes later, Severus finally laid aside his fork. He had not eaten much more, and Lupin's attempts at conversation had ended in little more than polite small talk. It just was not the same as when they were alone – with their colleagues surrounding them, he felt no desire to participate in any social activity. When he got up and left, a blue and a brown pair of eyes looked after him in concern.

* * *

"Severus?" Remus lightly touched the sleeping man's shoulder, not wanting to startle him. It was half past nine on Wednesday evening, and he had found his colleague deeply asleep in the library, his head resting on an unfolded roll of ancient-looking parchment, the desk around him covered with similarly aged and dusty documents and tomes.

Severus had not turned up for dinner. This was not the most unusual thing to happen – his partaking in meals had never been as regular as that of most of his colleagues – but Remus had been unable to not feel worried, as he had been each time during the last weeks when this had happened. He knew he was probably being overly apprehensive, but he had found that he could not change it – and that he did not want to. Moreover, this had been a welcome opportunity to spend some time with Severus before Friday evening, and so he had decided to pay the other man a visit.

He had not found him in his quarters or his office, however. Of course, it was possible that Severus had been called to Voldemort and was therefore absent – a thought that had made Remus feel decidedly miserable – but he had decided to try his luck in the library anyway before returning to his own rooms. Since Severus was pressured to do research for his tasks for Voldemort, he might as well be there.

"Hmph?" was the only reaction he got, but when he tried again, the other man moved, his elbow bumping into a pile of books which fell from the table with a noise that would have certainly earned them Madam Pince's eternal disapproval had not the library been closed for students by now, which meant that she was not present.

Within a matter of seconds, Severus was wide awake, staring up at Remus in confusion.

"Lupin? What are you doing in my…" He fell silent, looking around himself. It was obvious that he was not where he had expected to be.

"I was looking for you," Remus explained. "You weren't at dinner, and I thought maybe we could eat together."

The other man seemed surprised at first, but then nodded. "I didn't even notice it was dinnertime already. Too much work. How late is it?"

"Half past nine," Remus answered. "I did some work for classes tomorrow before I went looking for you."

.-.-.-.-.

Severus did not even remember falling asleep: the last thing he knew was that he had been brooding over an old text on hypnotic herbs, written in a dialect that was more similar to Chaucer's than their Modern English. The lecture of the introduction book on the language that Lupin had given him had proven to be beneficial even for his work.

He had not got as far with the research as he would have liked to this evening, but he did not feel up to continuing. He needed to be able to concentrate, and right now he felt nothing but tired and scatterbrained – he had dreamt something decidedly bizarre, but could not remember many details, just that someone had wished him a happy birthday, and then Black and James Potter had appeared and had begun mocking him in Middle English.

"Thank you," he now said to Lupin, "I wouldn't have liked sleeping like this all night long." His neck and shoulders were already tense and hurting slightly from the uncomfortable sleeping position. He tried to loosen the muscles a bit and grimaced slightly, then yawned involuntarily.

"Maybe dinner wasn't such a good idea," Lupin suddenly said. "If you'd like to go to bed now, I'll just help you to bring back the books and then go."

But Severus shook his head. "No. I would like some company. And don't bother with the books." He pointed toward Remus's cane. "Crawling around on the floor will not make it better."

Severus knew he was completely overworked and sleep-deprived, and going to bed would have been reasonable – if he were sure he would be able to sleep decently. But since the testing of the Imperius Potion, the nights had been even worse than usual, and the idea of a quiet hour with Lupin was much more appealing than the prospect of tossing around in his bed sleeplessly, or even dreaming.

It did not take him long to pick up the books and scrolls, of which luckily none had been damaged. Some of them were so old that the pages were likely to get loose and fall out if they were not treated with care. They then brought them back to their respective shelves and vitrines and left the library, heading for Lupin's rooms.

During dinner, their conversation mainly circled around Severus's birthday present. Even though he had found it to be helpful even for his work – a fact that he mentioned and that seemed to please Lupin a great deal – he found the subject interesting on its own. By the time they had both cleared their plates, he found himself despite his fatigued state talking quite enthusiastically about the differences between Middle and Modern English he had been able to define so far.

Lupin, however, did not appear to be very interested. He looked distracted, maybe even concerned, and seemed to have to force himself to answer. After a short while, Severus gave up pretending not to notice.

"Lupin, you aren't listening to a word I'm saying. Is there anything wrong?" He knew that sometimes, he did not feel like making conversation at all, either, and Lupin looked as though something was bothering him. Making someone else talk to him about his worries was something he would never have considered some time ago, but now it did not seem like such a bad idea any more.

The other man did not answer immediately, but stared back at him rather uneasily. What was he looking at? Had Severus made a mess on his robes with the sauce and not noticed? But that was ridiculous – Lupin would have told him and would not be so reluctant now. So, what reason could...

_'The Glamour Charm.'_

He had fallen asleep in the library, and of course, the charm had worn off as soon as he had been sleeping. When Lupin had woken him up, he had not even wasted one thought on it, even though he usually took great care to never be seen without it.

All of a sudden, Severus felt extremely uneasy in the other man's company. Surely, Lupin must be aghast at Severus sight – who would not be? And especially because there was quite a difference between his real looks and the illusion the charm created. What should he do now?

Lupin preceded anything Severus might say, though. "You needn't worry," he said softly. "I knew you were using a Glamour before tonight."

"What?!"

"You fell asleep in my quarters. We slept in one bed, and woke up together," Lupin reminded him quietly.

Severus felt like an idiot. How could he not have thought of it? The other man must think him a complete muddlehead.

"Why did you never tell me?" he demanded angrily. Knowing this, he now felt even more exposed than he had just a few moments ago. If Lupin had known all the time, that meant he must have been able to see Severus's real appearance for over two weeks – without ever saying a word!

"I'm sorry," Lupin replied. "I probably should have. Also because, well...that wasn't the first time I saw it. Remember when we had that nasty argument back in November? You weren't well, and the Glamour failed sometimes." He sighed. "I wasn't sure how to tell you. I didn't want to embarrass you."

Damn the man, but Severus believed him immediately. It _would_ have been embarrassing – heck it _was_, right here and now! But it was odd – were it anyone else, he would feel much more upset, he was sure of that. The mere idea had always made him sick. Now, however, even though there was embarrassment and anger, he also felt something almost akin to...relief? Could that be possible?

Yes, he realised in surprise...it wasn't half as bad as he would have thought. It felt good to have someone know the truth – someone other than Albus and Madam Pomfrey. And if Lupin had known for months, then he couldn't be all that appalled, since he still had wanted to spend time with him.

"It's all right," Severus finally said after a somewhat awkward silence. "I don't mind you knowing. But...do you think anyone else has noticed?" This was something he really didn't like to imagine. If the charm had failed once without him noticing, it could have happened again.

Lupin shook his head. "Other than Albus? I don't think so. They..." he hesitated for a moment, sounding rather uncomfortable as he went on. "I don't believe they pay that much attention."

Of course, Lupin was right. His colleagues, or even the students, were surely not interested enough in him to notice something like this. And even if the charm had flickered every now and then – Snape looking ugly and pale was certainly no surprise to anyone. It was doubtful they would give it a second thought.

"You're right. And Albus...well, I doubt there is anything in this castle he doesn't know."

Lupin smiled weakly. "He's just as worried as me."

"I know." Severus pinched his nose tiredly. "But I can't do anything. You know that I'm...not sleeping well. And I have too much work to do. Classes, and my work for the Dark Lord. He is very demanding, and displeased that I haven't made sufficient progress." He did not mention his work at the improved Wolfsbane. Lupin would only feel guilty about causing him even me trouble, he was sure of that.

"If you want, I could try and help you with the research."

Severus was surprised by the offer, but declined after only a moment of thinking. "Thank you, but no. I remember how abysmal you were at Potions. And even if you were better at it, and I told you what I need, I can't be sure you would not overlook something important. The most interesting things are often hidden in appendices or footnotes, and besides, most ingredients have gone by a dozen names during the last centuries. You wouldn't even know what to look for."

"Yes, I know you're right." Lupin looked disappointed. "I just wish I could do something."

Severus smiled thinly. "You could get me from the library at nine tomorrow evening. I'm sure I will be hungry by then."

"All right, then. I'll make sure Dobby gets us something nice." Lupin smiled back at him, and Severus felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was to add to Lupin's troubles even more – although in the back of his mind, he knew it was too late for that by far.

* * *

During the weeks before the next full moon, Severus would have dinner with Lupin at his colleague's quarters about every third evening. Usually, he would forget to go to the official meal, brooding over his research either in the library or in his office, and around nine, Lupin would turn up and ask him to eat with him. They were quiet and pleasant meals, sometimes followed by half an hour of talking before Severus announced he needed to go back to work.

They actually were so pleasant that once or twice, he found himself deliberately staying away from the Great Hall, so he would be able to eat with Lupin instead. Some time ago, he would have been angered beyond bounds by his own behaviour, but now, all he felt was a vague astonishment about himself, and even that faded quickly. With every time, he realised more how much he enjoyed their time together, how much he looked forward to the next time, and how used he had already got to Lupin's... well, it seemed that by now, he could feel justified in calling it "friendship". He deemed it better not to touch on the subject with Lupin, though. Things were good as they were – there was no need to complicate them by talking about it.

Not everything was all right, however, as he noticed all too soon. As the full moon grew near once again, he observed with concern how Lupin got quieter, how his smiles got fewer, how weary he seemed to be. Severus knew what the other man feared – that once again the Wolfsbane Potion would fail, and the werewolf would take him over, consumed with guilt over Black's death.

Despite the fact that he had spent three quarters of his free time on research on the improvement of the Wolfsbane instead of working on the Imperius Potion as he should have done, Severus had not yet found a way to help his colleague. Seeing Lupin grow nervous and pale as the full moon approached, he had intensified his efforts, often sitting over his books or experimenting in his lab until far into the early morning hours, but until now, not much had come from it.

Truth be told, seeing Lupin like this was something that bothered him more than he would have thought possible only a little while ago. He wished he could do more than trying to find a way to improve the potion some day in the future. What of the meantime? However, with his teaching schedule, research for two highly complicated potions and Death Eater summonings in irregular intervals, he found hardly time to think about it more deeply. He might dislike it, but he could not do more than he did right now.

He was doing too much already, and he felt his body protest more with each passing day. More than once, he fell asleep over his work either in his office, in his lab, or in the library. Severus hated especially the latter: it meant making himself vulnerable to the people who might find him like this – a thought he could hardly bear. He did not mind so much if it was, like on a few occasions, Lupin, but there had been others.

Albus, once, in the middle of the night, looking at him with this sad and compassionate expression Severus had always hated on the old man – although, in a way he did not quite fully understand, it would have been even worse had it been absent. Madam Pince another time, just before leaving. She had not said anything other than "You might want to go to bed," and Severus had been thankful for the dim light in the dark corner he usually worked in, but still...he could have done without it, definitely. Once, he had even jerked awake from a light doze because a student had dropped a book nearby. What if _they_ had seen him? Things could not go on like this, but unfortunately, he had no solution, either.

And then, one night, two days before the full moon, when almost everyone else had long gone to bed, Severus awoke to the dusty silence of the library once more. He was drenched in sweat and trembling, because he had been dreaming, and this dream had left him more horrified than any person's discovery of the Glamour Charm and his pitiful state could have made him be.

Because now he remembered everything.

.-.-.-.-.

"You lied to me!"

All the way to Lupin's quarters, he had thought about what to say, had made up elaborate sentences to properly express his anger. But now that the man was standing in front of him, already clad in his pyjamas – he had obviously just caught him getting ready for bed – all he could think of saying was this. And just as Lupin, he winced at the tone of betrayal and hurt in his voice.

"Severus? I don't know what you..."

"Yes, you do. I shouldn't have believed you in the first place. I, falling asleep on your couch, just like that, ridiculous! I was having a full-blown panic attack, and you served me that stupid story afterwards, when you realised I didn't remember! What were you thinking?" He was not all too coherent, but he couldn't help it. He felt like destroying something and screaming; it was a miracle he was able to behave this civilly.

Realisation slowly replaced Lupin's confused expression, followed by shock and regret. But Severus was far too angry to pay more than vague attention to it.

"Why? Tell me! I thought..." He took a deep breath. Admitting this was hard, now more than ever. "It might have been idiotic of me, I see that now, but I actually thought we were becoming friends."

Lupin opened his mouth to say something, but Severus cut him off. He was not in the mood to listen to excuses. Not again. "It seems I was wrong. I'm not an expert in the field of interpersonal relationships, let alone friendship. I haven't had the opportunity. But lying to each other certainly isn't a basis for anything."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively - his ability of feeling even remotely comfortable around Lupin had vanished. He had come to terms with the fact that his colleague knew about the Glamour Charm, knew that he was overworked and tired all of the time; that he knew Severus was having nightmares because of things done to him by the man who called himself his father. Even that he had been helping him deal with it all for several weeks now had been something he had no longer felt so ashamed about any more. But this...this was different.

"I thought I could trust you!"

The words were hanging in the air for some time, Severus glaring at Lupin, who stood there pale and miserable-looking.

.-.-.-.-.

"I'm sorry." It sounded pathetic even in Remus's own ears. "I really am. I thought it would be better if... I mean, I can't imagine you would have wanted me to know..." He trailed off and looked away, not knowing what to say.

It had all gone too quickly, and even if he had had the best excuse in the world and had been right in his decision, he knew it would not matter to Severus. The simple truth was that he had lied to him, had betrayed his trust, and he was certain that Severus would not be able to get over that any time soon, if at all.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again, even though he knew it would not change anything.

Severus stared at him silently for some more moments, then turned and left without another word.


	16. Admissions

**Chapter 16 – Admissions**

On Wednesday morning, the day after the full moon, Severus felt every bit as pathetic as he had during the last two days. Partly, that was due to lack of sleep, since he'd slept even less than usual. During the first two nights, every time he'd tried going to bed, all that had happened was that he'd lain awake and started brooding over the situation with Lupin, then dozed off for a few minutes, only to wake up again soon after. This night, he hadn't even bothered trying anymore and had instead worked all night long on the Imperius Potion. In only a week or two, he would be able to perform a second test series – an idea that made his stomach clench.

Now it was seven in the morning, and an hour ago, he'd stopped working and started pacing restlessly in front of his fireplace, interrupted by short periods of sitting in the armchair and staring into the fire. All night long, he'd managed to keep his worries at bay by concentrating on his work, but now, it had finally become impossible.

Had it happened again tonight? This question was all that he could think of. Had the werewolf again overcome the potion that was meant to restrain him? Had he taken out the feelings of guilt, which Lupin usually managed to suppress, on himself?

And why the hell did Severus even care? Lupin had lied to him, had betrayed his trust and destroyed the tentative friendship between them – and yet Severus was worried sick about him now! He should waste no further thought on him instead of losing sleep over the man. That he was much more concerned for Lupin than angry at him made him, in turn, feel irritated and angry with himself.

It was in this less than cheerful mood that he finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast. Without his doing, his eyes immediately fell on Lupin's empty seat, which – ridiculous thought! – seemed to be staring at him accusingly.

"What are you doing here?" it appeared to ask "Why aren't you in the infirmary with him?"

Severus looked away from the chair and sat down next to Albus, who didn't look particularly well himself. He met the old wizard's "Good morning" with silence, which prompted a sigh from Albus.

"You're probably right; it is not a good morning, after all."

"What do you mean?" Severus reached for the teapot, determined not to let the headmaster's words touch him, even if they should be about Lupin, of which he had little doubt.

"Remus is in the infirmary right now," Albus now confirmed his thoughts. "Poppy informed me of it just before breakfast. It's much worse than last time."

_Worse! _Severus refused to react, staring into his cup silently. But his mind was racing. Last month, Lupin had been mauled badly enough – Severus still vividly remembered the thick bandages and Lupin's drawn, pained face when he'd first visited him. Even with the help of magical healing, Lupin hadn't been able to move freely for two weeks. And now it was even worse than that? And what would happen in a month's time? It was impossible that Lupin could endure this more often than just a few times without ending up seriously damaged.

"He won't be able to teach for at least two weeks, I suppose," Albus went on, "but you need not worry about taking over his classes. You have too much work already, and I shouldn't have asked it of you this year at all. I will take his place in the classroom."

"Thank you." Severus had expected to be teaching Defence once more, and he hadn't been able to imagine how he would have managed.

_'Especially now, without Lupin being there to make you feel better,'_a little voice in his mind whispered. He tried to shut it up by concentrating on the food, and for the rest of the meal, Albus didn't try to talk to him again.

Only when the old wizard had finished and got up to leave did he speak again. "Poor Remus," he murmured, just loud enough for Severus to hear. "That's not the kind of birthday you would wish on anyone."

.-.-.-.

In the late afternoon, after the last class was over, Severus staggered back to his quarters in a zombie-like daze. His vision was blurry, his steps shaky, and more than once, he had to steady himself against the wall in order to prevent his ridiculously wobbly knees from giving in. He'd known that he would have to pay for burning the candle at both ends during the last weeks, but he'd preferred not to think about it. Today it had finally happened, most likely because of him going without sleep for three nights in a row. Severus could be glad that he hadn't fainted in class.

He felt so weak that even the Glamour Charm was gone, but he hadn't been able to care about the students' astonished – and in some cases even worried – looks. He had been too exhausted by far, and moreover, he'd hardly been able to take his thoughts off Lupin for more than five minutes.

He knew that Albus had intended to make him feel guilty – and he hated the fact that he had succeeded. After the old wizard's remark about it being Lupin's birthday, Severus had had to think of his own birthday, of the pleasant time spent with Lupin, and the gift the man had made him. Despite the panic attack he'd had that evening, it had been one of the best birthdays he had ever had.

Lupin, instead, would spend his in a bed in the infirmary, badly injured and alone if not for Albus and Potter, who might visit him for a little while. Severus had resolved not to care, but he was failing miserably.

Finally, after a way that seemed to be ten times as long as usual, he reached his quarters. He croaked the password and stumbled inside, somehow found his way to the bedroom, and then collapsed on the bed. Within less than a minute, he had fallen asleep.

.-.-.-.

_"Severus!"_

_Someone was calling him. Severus groaned and turned in his sleep. He didn't want to wake up. He was tired. He wanted to sleep._

_"Severus!"_

_A familiar voice. He clutched the pillow pressed to his chest tighter. It didn't matter. Whoever it was, they could wait._

_"Severus, you will listen to me or I'll go to your lab and smash all your precious little vials on the floor!"_

_Within a second, Severus's eyes were open – and he found himself staring at an all too well-known face. One that he'd never want to see in his personal rooms, not to mention his bedroom. Severus sat up hastily, the intruder watching him._

_"But you're dead!" was all Severus managed to croak after staring in shock for several more seconds._

_"You're right," the other man agreed, sitting down on the edge of the bed._

_This was making no sense at all. "Then how did you get back? Are you a ghost? And what the hell would you want from me, of all people?"_

_"That's a lot of questions." Sirius Black grinned, apparently amused by Severus's confusion. "But that's not what we need to talk about," he went on in a more earnest tone. "It's you. I'm quite worried about you, you know."_

_Maybe Severus was hallucinating. Yes, that must be it. "You're not real," he declared. "If you were, you wouldn't say such a thing. You'd tell me to die already!"_

_"Oh, I'm quite real. It's just that I'm not who you think I am."_

_Now, that was logical. "So, you're telling me I'm not hallucinating Sirius Black sitting in my bedroom and telling me that he's worried about me. Good. Instead, someone who looks like Black, but isn't him, is sitting in my bedroom, telling me he's worried about me. Did I get this right?"_

_"Exactly."_

_Severus's head felt ready to explode. If he weren't so tired, and if this didn't feel like some bizarre dream, he would have been livid by now._

_"I have neither the time nor the nerve for such nonsense!"_

_"All right, no need to get upset." Black – or whoever he was – raised both hands in a placatory gesture. "You want to know what's happening – that's perfectly understandable. Who I am? I'm your subconscious."_

_Dumbfounded, Severus stared._

_Then he lay down and closed his eyes again. Obviously, his sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on him. Or maybe spending so many years in rooms where the air was saturated with the fumes of potions had proven to be detrimental to his mental health. There was no other explanation._

_"Hey, at least look at me while we're talking!"_

_Severus didn't answer. He could just go to sleep again, and when he'd wake up in the morning, he would have recovered, and the hallucination would be gone._

_"Oh, but that won't work," the other man said. "You are_ already sleeping_."_

_Severus sighed without opening his eyes. "So, let's summarise__: I'm sleeping. In my dreams, my subconscious - that for some unfathomable reason impersonates a dead enemy of mine - is paying me a visit. And of course, it's able to read my thoughts. Is that it?"_

_"That's about right, although it sounds kind of ridiculous when you put it like that." If he had bothered to look, Severus was sure he could have seen Black (he had decided to conveniently call him that) pouting._

_"Well, this_ is _ridiculous, no matter how you put it."_

_"How about putting it like this: you know very well that you're about to make a huge mistake, but you're too proud and too scared to admit it, even to yourself." Black suddenly sounded more serious than Severus had ever heard the real man speak before._

_"I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_"Oh, of course not. You don't eat, you haven't been sleeping for three days, you're running around Hogwarts like a zombie – and don't even care that everyone can see you like that – and you're asking yourself how on earth you'll manage in the future without Remus's help. But you won't go to him and try to set things right. Now tell me that's not a mistake, and a completely idiotic one."_

_"It's he who made the mistake! He lied to me!" Severus had opened his eyes and sat up again. "How could I trust him now?"_

_"So, you've never lied to people before? And you've always given everyone reason to trust you? Don't be so childish!"_

_"I'm not -"_

_"Severus, listen to me!" Black was leaning forward and staring intently at him. "Albus had no reason at all to trust you in the beginning, but he took the risk. Think about where you'd be now if he had thought like you do. And Remus – he doesn't care that you were a Death Eater, that you're still murdering people, even if you don't want it, that you're about the most unfriendly person, and that you treated him like shit when he worked here three years ago. Apart from Albus's help, he's the best thing that ever happened to you. You don't really want to throw all that away just because you can't allow others to be human and make mistakes just like you."_

_Severus wanted to answer but found that he couldn't. The words had hit too close to home._

_"Go to him," Black said. "Listen. Let him apologise, let him explain. You owe him at least that much, don't you think? You were watching him during the last two days, and he was looking pathetic. As if he missed you just as much as you miss him. And if you're honest with yourself, seeing him in pain bothers you at least as much as the idea of him lying to you does."_

_And then, without a warning, Black disappeared._

.-.-.-.

Severus awoke with a throbbing head and an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He managed to crack his eyes open and looked at the watch on the bedside table. Two hours. He groaned. Why couldn't he have slept any longer after he'd practically fainted from exhaustion?

But now that he was awake, he vaguely remembered that there was something that he was supposed to do . . . only that he didn't know what. He rubbed his eyes and forehead to get rid of the exhaustion, and slowly, it came back to him. Lupin . . . he should visit him in the infirmary.

But wait, that was nonsense! He knew perfectly well that he'd made no such plans before falling asleep. So why - and then he remembered. Black, claiming to be his subconscious, telling him he was worried, telling him to reconcile with Lupin. That had to be the most ludicrous dream he'd ever had, Severus thought sourly. Maybe the pressure resting on his shoulders was too much, and he was truly going insane now. An anthropomorphic manifestation of his subconscious was absurd enough, but why did it have to be Black, of all people? The man would never have wanted him anywhere near Lupin. All of this made no sense whatsoever.

Still, he couldn't just ignore the whole thing; even though it was bizarre, the apparition in his dream had been right with everything it had said. Severus had managed to suppress these thoughts during the last days, and if they had sneaked into his mind, they had stayed vague enough to ignore them. But now that they had been verbalised, even only in a dream, there was no further ignoring them.

He'd been right in being angry about being lied to, but refusing to talk to Lupin and let him explain had been hypocritical. If everyone were as unforgiving as he had resolved to be in this affair, Severus would be rotting in Azkaban now. He felt guilty at this thought - and maybe that was the explanation: he'd had a guilty conscience, and it had expressed itself in the dream. And that it had been Black - well, he and Lupin had been lovers. It wasn't entirely illogical that the voice defending Lupin should take this form. At least that was the most useful explanation Severus could come up with.

He dragged himself to his feet, and for a moment, the room swayed before his eyes; then, after some furious blinking, it settled down to normal. It was only seven in the evening, and maybe Lupin was awake and strong enough to talk to him. He considered trying to cast the Glamour Charm, but decided against it. The effort might very well make him too weak to leave. He would have to hope that everyone was in the Great Hall for dinner and he would meet nobody in the corridors.

When Severus left his quarters, he felt an odd mixture of reluctance and hope. What had Albus told him once? Doing the right thing was often much harder than doing the wrong, but it always proved to be worth it. He could only hope that the old man had been right about that.

.-.-.-.-.

Lupin was looking even worse than he had a month ago: again, bandages were wrapped around his head and chest, and the skin that could be seen was covered in scratches and bruises. He had a black eye – had he run into a piece of furniture? – and deep lines of pain were etched around his mouth.

Severus didn't want to see Lupin like this, so weak, so hurt. It made _him_feel weak and hurt as well, but in a way he hadn't really known before. It made him want to protect Lupin, to make sure that this could never happen again – and that he couldn't say for certain that he would be able to do it made him feel angry and helpless at once. These feelings were so strong and so disturbing that Severus had to fight the impulse to turn and leave simply in order to escape them. Instead, he sat down on the chair beside the bed. He would wait here for an hour, he decided, and if Lupin wouldn't wake up during that time, he'd come back in the morning before breakfast.

About half of that time had gone by, and Severus felt more tired with every minute. It was only with great effort that he managed to keep his eyes open, when suddenly, he meant to see a movement. He straightened himself and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, and found that he had been right.

Lupin seemed to be awaking; he turned his head a few times, and then slowly opened his eyes. As soon as they were open, he groaned weakly and closed them against the light, trying to raise a trembling hand to his face. He didn't have the strength to do it, though, and it fell back on the blanket after just a few inches.

"Lupin?" Severus leaned forward a little, closer to the other man. "Can you hear me?"

Hearing him talk, Lupin opened his eyes again, which were unfocussed and bloodshot, and after a few moments of wandering, they finally settled on Severus. A weak smile lit up his face.

"Sirius . . . "

Sirius? Severus felt completely taken aback for a moment. What the hell was this supposed to mean? Lupin wasn't truly confusing him with Black, was he? Then his eyes fell on the bedside table and the large amount of flasks and vials on it. He knew that due to the extent of Lupin's injuries, Madam Pomfrey had been forced to use strong healing potions and equally potent painkillers. Lupin must be so completely drugged that it was actually not astonishing that he was hallucinating.

And under those circumstances, thinking that he was Black wasn't strange, Severus rationalised. After all, it was Black who was the reason for Lupin being injured in the first place. It was no wonder that his thoughts were lingering with the dead man.

He opened his mouth to say something, see if he could make Lupin realise who he really was, but the other man was quicker.

"Sirius . . . I'm such an idiot." His voice was only a weak whisper, but even so Severus could hear the sadness in it, and he wished he could make it disappear. That feeling was much stronger than the fleeting inclination to agree with Lupin's words.

"You're not," he said.

"Yes, I am," Lupin insisted. "Just listen, will you? I . . . I know you're not real, but it still would be nice to have someone to talk to, even if it's just a dream."

"All right." Severus felt uncomfortable with the idea, but he didn't have the heart to say no. This seemed so important for Lupin. "Tell me, then."

Lupin sighed. "I don't even know what to say . . . because that's all there really is to it. I'm an idiot and a coward. I've always been one. I didn't stop you and James from bullying Severus at school, even when I thought it was disgusting, because I was scared to lose you. Isn't that pathetic? He and I could have been friends for so long . . . if I hadn't screwed it up."

Lupin closed his eyes again, looking even more tired than he had when he'd woken up. Just those few minutes seemed to have exhausted him greatly.

"And now . . . now that we got another chance, I made the same mistake again. How could I be so stupid? I didn't mean to betray his trust, I just . . . I was afraid." Lupin's voice was shaking by now. "I didn't think he could take it - me seeing him like that; it was just too early. I feared he'd never want to see me again if I told him what really happened. I didn't want to lose him. But I just might have, and it's my own fault. Because I was a bloody coward again."

Severus had never seen Lupin so crushed before, and he wished he didn't right now. It made him feel almost nauseous with sympathy.

"I'm . . . scared," Lupin murmured. "I'm scared that it's all over now, and I . . . I can't stand the idea. Severus is . . . the only one I can really talk to, not like Harry or Albus. I didn't even know anymore how that feels – to have a friend to talk to. Someone you know you can trust with, things you couldn't tell others."

Lupin took a deep breath, but it actually sounded more like a sob to Severus. It was the last straw, and without even realising what he was doing, he took Lupin's hand, which was lying on the blanket, in his own.

"Don't," he said quickly, without thinking about the words. "Don't get so upset over him; he's not worth it!"

Lupin smiled feebly. "That's so typically you. Aren't you supposed to become wiser when you're dead? Leave old grudges behind?" Then he added in a more serious tone, "You wouldn't say that if you really got to know him. He's nothing like the nasty person he pretends to be. And he's more than worth getting upset over having hurt him."

Severus didn't answer for some moments. All this was almost too much to digest at once. He'd known that Lupin was feeling bad about the situation – it had been obvious from the man's behaviour during the last days – but Severus had had no idea about the depth of his feelings. It made him feel pleased and uncomfortable at the same time. One thing, though, he now knew for sure: Lupin needed him just as much as Severus needed Lupin.

"He might still change his mind," he finally said. "Realise he overreacted."

"Not very likely." Lupin now sounded just exhausted and resigned. "He'd just begun trusting me, I think, and that's a miracle in itself. Then he discovered I lied to him. I don't believe he could get over that so quickly. And I can't blame him. I just . . . I wish I could tell him I'm sorry."

With every pessimistic word from Lupin, Severus felt increasingly helpless. Luckily, the other man fell silent now, and after several minutes, he seemed to have fallen asleep, his chest rising and falling lightly with regular breaths.

Severus, only now noticing that he was holding Lupin's hand, was about to let go, when the other man's fingers weakly curled around his.

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"There's more."

More? What else did he want to tell Black? Severus didn't really feel up to more of this. He didn't want to pretend being Black anymore, and he didn't want to see Lupin miserable anymore. All that he wanted was a quiet hour or two to think about what had happened. Alone.

"I think...I'm in love with Severus."

The barely audible words made Severus's every thought stop dead. He stared down at Lupin – at thick bandages and red scratches, at too grey hair, a too worn face, and eyes closed in exhaustion – and for a single, vague second, a possible answer seemed to flash at the back of his mind, and a feeling so wild and warm and _right_like he had never thought it possible.

But it vanished as soon as it had come – or maybe he had pushed it away out of instinct and fear– and he stayed silent, speechless.

"I didn't even realise it before," Lupin went on. "Just . . . after he'd left that evening. When it was too late. And now, I'll be again stuck watching the man I love and wishing things had been different, just like with you."

That last part confused Severus even more, but he refused to think about it. He was too overwhelmed as it was.

Finally, he managed to speak. "You mustn't worry so much," he got out. "You're tired. Sleep now."

Lupin sighed. "If only that were so easy, not worrying."

"Sleep." Severus tightened his hold on Lupin's hand. "I . . . everything will be all right, in the end. Believe me."

"I'd like to." Lupin smiled weakly. "Thank you."

It seemed that Severus had managed to comfort Lupin at least a little, and after this, it took only a few minutes before the man had fallen asleep again. Severus didn't leave then, however, but just kept holding Lupin's hand, watching him sleep for a long while.

.-.-.-.-.

Severus's first clear impression was of someone screaming, but it wasn't until the screams turned into moans and sobs that he realised that it was him making those noises. And only now did he notice that there were arms around him, that he was being rocked and talked to gently.

". . . over now, you needn't be scared any more. Calm down, Severus, calm down. I'm here now, dear, I'm here. It was just a dream . . ."

He didn't know what he'd been dreaming, but it had left him in cold terror, and the mere idea of remembering made him immediately arch closer to the source of warmth and comfort.

"Sshh . . . I'm here, Severus, dear, it's all right."

It was a female voice, soft and soothing, and Severus trusted it instinctively. In the past, it had provided him with comfort and safety so often, and although that had been many years ago, he'd never forgotten how it had felt.

The terrifying impressions of whatever had been haunting his dreams slowly faded away as he listened to more soft words and endearments, until in the end, he was no longer crying. But even now, he still stayed where he was for a little while, his eyes closed, face buried against a soft chest, unwilling to leave the pleasant sensation of being held behind. Then, the slow rocking finally came to an end.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Severus cringed inwardly. He was finally fully lucid and knew who the other person was – and that it would be a very awkward situation. Slowly, he opened his eyes and sat up. He found that he was still in the infirmary, which was lit by just a few candles, and Madam Pomfrey, who had by now let go of him, was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking at him with concern.

Severus suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. He didn't know what to say, so he finally settled on the most logical question.

"Why am I here?"

Her expression changed from concerned to disapproving.

"You fell asleep at Remus's bedside, although 'fainting' would be the more correct expression. I'd been at dinner when you came, and after that, Albus came here with me to have a look at Remus. We found you on the floor, sleeping. You didn't even notice that you fell from the chair, did you?"

Severus shook his head. The last thing he could remember was watching Lupin sleep – and then he'd awoken in her arms.

"I'd guessed so. You didn't wake up either when I ran a check-up on you."

Severus wanted to say something, but was cut short by her.

"No, don't you dare complain! The results were appalling. You're underweight, your blood-pressure is ridiculously low, your body is completely exhausted, and it's a miracle that you haven't had a circulatory collapse yet."

As she went on, her voice was firm, showing she would have no discussion.

"I know there isn't much that can be done about it, but I forbid you to work for the rest of the week. The students won't die from not having Potions classes tomorrow and on Friday. You'll stay here until Sunday evening and do nothing but rest and eat reasonably."

Severus knew that it was useless to protest. It was Madam Pomfrey's right to declare a teacher unfit for teaching, and if she did, he was forbidden to act against it. And he knew that she was right with what she had said. Today, he had realised on his own that he was at the end of his rope. Another night and day like the previous ones, and he would have collapsed in some corridor or during class.

But she couldn't force him to stay in the infirmary, since he could very well leave for his own rooms and recover there. He already wanted to say it when he thought better of it. If he were to stay alone in his quarters during the next four days, he was sure he wouldn't rest as much as necessary, and he would probably also forget to eat regularly. Severus knew himself well enough to realise that if he wanted to recover at least a little, he would have to stay here, under her supervision. He did not like it, but it was necessary.

"All right," he agreed, lowering himself on the mattress. "I'll do as you say."

"Good. Tomorrow, I'll give you something for your blood-pressure and for stabilising your metabolism. You've been having dizzy spells and blurry vision, right?"

Severus nodded, barely able to suppress a yawn. As soon as he had lain down, he'd felt once again how exhausted he really was.

"Try to sleep now." She hesitated, then added in a much softer tone, "I'll be here when you need anything. You needn't worry about more dreams."

Severus didn't answer at first. He'd been hoping they might be able to avoid this subject and instead just stick to the mere facts.

"I don't want you to stay awake," he said in the end. After he'd come here from Azkaban, she'd done that regularly, watching over his sleep when he'd had a particularly bad day. Albus had employed a second nurse during that time, so that Madam Pomfrey had been able to concentrate almost completely on Severus. He'd never understood why she would waste so much time on him, but she had insisted on it, and after a while, he'd stopped asking.

"So you'd rather have been alone with that dream?"

"I . . ." Severus fell silent again. Out of instinct, he would almost have said yes, but it would have been a lie, and for some reason, he didn't want to lie about this. Not anymore, not to someone who was so concerned about him.

He'd been lying on his back, but now he curled up on his side with a frustrated sigh. So much had changed; he had changed so much, and it confused and frightened him. Over the years, he'd become so used to shielding himself against other people's emotions, and his own feelings of hurt and fear had been perfectly buried under many layers of coldness and sarcasm, invisible to anyone. But now, he found it so much harder to pretend, especially toward Albus – and now also Madam Pomfrey. Damn Lupin for making this happen, for making him soften up so much, for making him vulnerable!

"Severus, dear..."

"_Don't _call me that!"

"I'm sorry. I just remembered how much you used to like it."

She was right, that was the worst thing about it.

The time he had spent here after Albus had saved him from Azkaban had been full of anguish and shame, but at the same time, it had ironically been one of the best times in his life. Being held and comforted, caressed and spoken to softly, those were things Severus had never had after his mother's death when he'd been small. Despite being ashamed for his weakness, he'd relished every gentle touch, every kind word – also the few ones he had ever allowed Albus.

Later, after he had begun teaching, he'd tried to forget about the positive aspects, had tried to concentrate only on how embarrassing it was that he had needed her so much. He'd forced himself to be cold and indifferent, to despise how he had felt during that time, because there had been no other way to make him stop longing for her comfort and understanding.

It hadn't always worked, and during his first year as a teacher, he'd often found himself sitting in his cool and lonely rooms, wishing to hear her voice, to feel her hand around his, to have her help him coping with his anger and pain. A few times, he had ended up in the infirmary on such evenings, unable to tell her what he needed or even look her in the eye, but she had understood and held him until he'd fallen asleep. Most of the time, though, his shame and fear of closeness had won out, and he had stayed in the dungeons, alone – until finally, he hadn't been able anymore to open up even to her, and the irregular visits had stopped completely.

Severus had preferred not to think of it, to try and forget all this, but now, in this state of physical and mental exhaustion and with her so near, it had become impossible.

There had been silence for some time, but now Severus heard her clothes rustle, and then felt her hand on his forehead. She didn't take it away when he flinched slightly, and when he forced himself to hold still, her cool fingers felt pleasant on his hot skin.

"You needn't be ashamed," she said, and while he knew that she was right, he still couldn't help it. "Nobody will ever know beside us. And even if he noticed, Remus wouldn't tell anyone, am I not right?"

"Yes." He had gathered all his willpower to speak, and the hoarsely murmured word was more than just an answer to her question. It was all he could do to admit that he needed her, and while he still hated this whole situation, he also hoped that she would understand.

After a while, she took her hand away, but before he could really feel the loss, it was on his head, smoothing down his hair that was messy from sleeping, and then on his shoulders and back – a light, feathery touch, caressing, soothing. Severus hadn't realised how tense he had been, and how tightly curled up, until he slowly relaxed under her touch.

Drifting off already, he heard her say, "Sleep, dear," and he couldn't find it in himself to feel angry or embarrassed – just warm, and tired, and grateful. Maybe, was his last thought before fully falling asleep, maybe it had been stupid of him to shut her out for so long.

.-.-.-.

When Severus woke up in the morning, it was unusually late for him. The clock on the wall showed 9.30am, and for the first time in weeks, he felt almost well rested. Looking around, he saw that his bed was just next to Lupin's, who was still - or again - sleeping deeply.

When he sat up, Severus saw a tray on the bedside table, containing a small bowl of porridge, a toast with marmalade, and...a glass of pumpkin juice!

"Stop scowling, Severus. There will be no coffee or tea for you as long as you're here."

He turned around and saw Madam Pomfrey approach his bed, apparently just coming from her office.

For some seconds, Severus felt embarrassed and unsure of how to behave. He'd had another nightmare in the course of the night, and it was one of the worst he could remember ever since he had begun teaching. He had awoken drenched in sweat, shaking, and retching violently, and had ended up vomiting what little he'd eaten the day before over the nurse, who had been trying to calm him down. After she had magically cleaned everything, he had been too ashamed to talk to her and had just let her rock him back to sleep.

"And don't even think about leaving anything – I want to see this tray empty in half an hour."

Noticing that he was actually hungry, Severus found that the easiest way to deal with the situation was to turn to his breakfast, and so he took the tray and placed it on his lap.

"Good." She sat down on the chair beside his bed and watched as he ate the fist spoonful of porridge. "When you're finished, I'll give you your medication, and if you like, you can ask a house-elf to get you something to read from your rooms. But no work, and you won't read all day long. You'll have breaks to rest or even nap, do you understand?"

Severus nodded obediently and ate another spoonful. Even if he had wanted to, there was little sense in trying to object, since he knew she was right. And once he'd accepted someone's authority in a certain matter, he had never found it particularly difficult to follow their orders – that was something that his father had drilled into him perfectly.

"Remus woke up two hours ago," Madam Pomfrey went on. "He was worried when he saw you were here."

Severus had to look over to the other man again, who didn't look any better than yesterday. It was typical for Lupin to worry about him even when he was in such a sorry state, Severus thought. The idea made a silly warmth rise in his chest, and he hastily looked away from Lupin again.

"I know something went wrong between the two of you." Now she sounded concerned herself. "He said something about it in his sleep. Will you talk to him later?"

"I . . . yes, but I don't want to talk about it with anyone else."

"All right." She smiled, and he was glad that she knew better than trying to pry. When he'd finished eating, she gave him two potions to drink. After that, she disappeared in her office again, while Severus ordered a house-elf to bring him some light reading to kill time until Lupin would wake up.

.-.-.-.

It was about two hours later when Severus heard a sound from the bed next to his. Laying his book aside, he saw that Lupin was awake and holding his head with one hand, a pained expression on his face. He might very well need something for the pain, Severus thought, but he decided not to call Madam Pomfrey. Instead, he got up and stepped over to Lupin's bed.

"Do you need a painkiller?"

Lupin looked up at him in surprise. He apparently wanted to say something, but then just closed his eyes again and nodded – a mistake, as the pained groan that followed indicated.

There was a spoon on the bedside table, and among the vials, Severus recognised one as containing the potion that was needed. Within a few moments, he was holding a spoonful to Lupin's lips.

"Here. Be careful and don't spill it."

Lupin obeyed and drank carefully, and after some minutes – during which Severus had put on a dressing gown over his nightshirt and sat down on the chair next to Lupin's bed – he opened his eyes again.

"Thank you." Lupin tried to smile at Severus, but he failed and finally looked away, apparently feeling at least as uneasy and insecure as Severus did.

"Poppy told me you would stay for some days," Lupin finally said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Close to undead. Or at least I suppose that's how it must feel. I certainly look like it." Severus hadn't bothered with the Glamour Charm, and he wouldn't put it on during his stay. It would be no more than a waste of energies, since Lupin and Madam Pomfrey were able to look through it anyway. "And what about you?"

"The same, actually. I didn't think it could be worse than last time, but it seems I was wrong."

They were silent for a little while, but finally, Lupin turned and looked at him.

"Severus . . . I need to talk to you about what happened. Please, will you listen?"

Severus nodded, and even this small gesture made Lupin look as if a rock had just rolled off his chest.

"Thank you." He took a deep breath. "I . . . I don't really know how to start. I know you're angry with me, and I can understand that. I lied to you and . . . I hurt you." The words were nothing more than a low murmur, tired and sad, and Severus could hardly stand it. "But I never . . . I didn't mean it to happen like that. I just thought . . . I was afraid -"

"No, stop it, Lupin!"

Lupin fell silent, his expression dejected.

"You needn't tell me," Severus said. He'd wanted to hear an explanation from Lupin, and an apology. In a way, he had considered it some kind of revenge for what had happened. But now, hearing him stumble over his own words, ashamed and desperate for Severus to believe him, he could not take it to see Lupin like that. Not when he could spare him all this.

"I know what you want to say. That you didn't think I could cope with you seeing me like that. That you were scared to lose me if you told me all that had happened. That you need me as . . . as a friend. And that you're sorry."

Lupin stared at him in confusion.

"Isn't that right? Wasn't that what you wanted to tell me?"

Finally, Lupin found his voice again. "Yes! I . . . I was such an idiot!"

"No." Severus shook his head. "You made a mistake, that's true. And I was hurt and I felt betrayed. But I had time to think about it, and I realised that I overreacted. I do accept your apology."

It hadn't been easy to say – although Severus meant it, a small part of the hurt and doubt had still not fully vanished. But the grateful expression on Lupin's pale face made him forget about it immediately.

"Thank you, Severus. I'm . . . very happy right now."

"Me too." That was an easy admission, because it was entirely true. Severus hadn't felt this good in far too long a time.

Like the evening before, he reached out and took Lupin's hand into his own. It seemed natural, like a gesture to seal their reconciliation, and after some surprised seconds, Lupin returned the squeeze.

"But how did you know?" Lupin finally asked with a slight frown. "You didn't use Legilimency on me, did you?"

"Of course not!" Severus felt insulted for a moment, but it didn't last. There were not many other explanations. "You told me already," he went on in a calmer tone. "Everything you wanted to say, you'd already said yesterday evening."

Lupin looked confused. "I don't remember."

"Well, it's not that surprising. You were drugged with painkillers and healing potions, and you were hallucinating." For a moment, Severus wondered if he even should tell Lupin everything, but not doing it would mean he'd just be making the same kind of mistake that Lupin had made.

"You thought I was Black. You thought that you were dreaming of him, and you told 'him' about what had happened, and how you felt about it."

"Oh." Lupin didn't seem to know what to say. "I hope I didn't say anything too stupid."

"Not really. Except fot the part about Black being supposed to have become wiser in death."

Lupin shook his head slightly, unable to hide his amusement. "I suppose some things will never change." Then he added, completely out of the blue: "But there's one thing that's really unbearable about this whole situation."

"What?" Severus had no idea what he meant.

"That you're still calling me 'Lupin'. You are aware of the fact that everyone has a first name, aren't you?"

Lupin was smiling, and Severus suddenly found that there were few things in the world he liked more than this sight. He looked down at their entwined fingers, and a smile stole onto his lips as well.

"Remus, then."

It sounded just right.


	17. Growing Closer

**A/N:** Um...this is embarrassing, but yes, over a year after the last update, this story still does exist.

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Growing Closer**

It was Saturday night, and everyone at Hogwarts was deeply asleep – everyone but Remus. He had awoken some time ago in pain, but hadn't wanted to take the painkilling potion standing on the bedside table. He couldn't imagine that it was healthy to spend day after day filled up with potions, but even more, he still felt reluctant to simply drown out the pain the wolf had inflicted on himself over Sirius's death. Instead, he lay in the dark, willing himself to fall asleep again despite the throbbing ache in his wounds.

He didn't succeed, though, and just when he considered finally taking the potion so he'd at least get a few more hours of sleep, he heard noises from the bed next to his that made him forget about it, at least for the moment.

Just like during the night which he had spent in Remus's quarters, and also last night, Severus seemed to be having a nightmare. He was mumbling softly at first, but soon grew louder, his voice sounding as if he were in pain.

"Not the children, my Lord!" Remus heard him plead, and he shuddered to think what had to be be the cause of this dream.

The night before, he'd awoken to see Poppy sit at Severus's bedside, and he had thought it wiser not to let on that he was awake. But right now she was nowhere in sight, and Severus's dream seemed to be getting worse by the moment.

For some seconds, Remus hesitated – after only a few days, he wasn't really strong enough yet to get up – but then another pained moan from Severus took the decision away from him. He couldn't simply do nothing.

It was exhausting to even sit up, and once he was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his naked feet on the cold stone floor, he was gritting his teeth, refusing to listen to his body telling him that this was madness and he should lie down immediately.

Gripping the edge of the bedside table tightly, he managed to hoist himself to his feet – only to sway and almost fall as a sharp pain raced through his right hip. Nevertheless, he managed to somehow limp the few steps to Severus's bed, where he sat down next to the sleeping man with a sigh of relief. He was shaking, and had he stayed on his feet for another minute, he was sure he would have fainted. But he could worry about his own health later – there were more urgent matters demanding his attention.

Remus shook his head, trying to get rid of the remaining dizziness, before he reached out to Severus.

.-.-.-.

Like the nights before, Severus awoke to the sound of his own sobs, and like the nights before, there were arms around him, and softly whispered, soothing words. It took some minutes before he could calm down, and when he finally had got himself under control again, he hesitated to pull back immediately. It was still hard to let Madam Pomfrey touch him like this after only three days, but he couldn't deny how much he needed it – and liked it. Maybe he could get used to this again, as he had so many years ago.

"Severus? Are you feeling better?"

The worried question made him flinch – this was not Madam Pomfrey! A second later, Severus had jerked free of the embrace and was sitting up, staring at the pale face of Remus Lupin.

"You were dreaming, and Poppy wasn't here," the other man said. "You wouldn't wake up when I tried to wake you, so . . ."

Severus pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for some moments. There was no reason to get upset or panic now. Remus had merely helped him, like he'd done in the night after his birthday. Severus couldn't change that Remus had witnessed his nightmares, and he should be grateful instead of worrying. Remus had proven already that he was worthy of Severus's trust in this matter.

Opening his eyes again, Severus found Remus observing him with concern. It seemed that he had even backed away from him a little, now sitting closer to the edge of the bed than before. Severus took a deep breath, making an effort to relax.

"Yes, I'm better," he answered, which was rewarded with a smile from Remus.

Although he didn't understand why, this was what took away the uncomfortable feeling, and to his own surprise, Severus found himself reaching for Remus's hand, just like some days ago when they had reconciled.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For everything. I don't think I could . . . if I were you . . . "

He trailed off, not sure of what he really wanted to say, but it didn't feel all that awkward.

Remus simply smiled again. "We're friends; it's what friends do." After a moment, he added, "Do you want to talk about the dream?"

Immediately, Severus shook his head, only to reconsider some seconds later.

"It was . . . about the potion. The Imperius Potion." He looked away from Remus, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. "I'll have to test the new version soon. In the dream, they . . . they all died again."

His throat felt terribly dry, and he briefly thought about drinking from the glass of water sitting on the bedside table, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to go on should he stop talking now.

"They were all children, just like . . . the little girl last time. I made them drink, then I watched them die, one by one, and it wouldn't stop. There were more and more of them, and it just . . . it wouldn't stop!"

He could feel both of Remus's hands around his now, squeezing gently, and he was incredibly grateful for the physical connection.

"I…I don't know how long I still can . . . I mean, just look at me!"

It was an exhausting struggle to find the words to express what he felt, and Severus was sure that without the comforting feeling of Remus's warm hands around his, he would have given it up entirely.

"I'm . . . scared," he finally forced out. "That I won't make it. That I'll . . . break down and fail Albus and everyone on our side. Of what they'll do with me if they find out that I'm spying on them. And . . . and of what I'll become if the Dark Lord won't be stopped soon. I'm scared that . . . one day, I'll be used to what I have to do for him."

By now, he was whispering almost inaudibly – the last things he'd said, he hadn't even dared to admit to himself before.

He was shaking again, and only when one of Remus's hands left his and slowly came up to touch his cheek did he notice that he was crying again. Although tense, he didn't pull away, but let it happen, albeit with a feeling of complete surrealism.

"You won't get used to it." Remus sounded as certain of it as Severus wished he could be. "Just that we're here now like this, that you dream about it, that shows you'll never get used to it." He took his hand away from Severus's face and, after a short while of silence, asked softly, "Would you mind if I held you again?"

Severus didn't respond at first, not knowing what to do. But in the end, he shook his head, wishing in the same second he had not done it. There was a critical moment when Remus's arms closed around him and all he felt was the urge to get away – and then, without knowing how it had happened, he was clinging tightly to the other man. It was frightening – he would never have believed this could happen without the Mens Aperta Potion – but even more, it was relieving in a way he hadn't thought possible. He could let Madam Pomfrey comfort him, but he would never be able to talk to her like he could do with Remus.

Severus didn't know how long they would have stayed like this if he hadn't noticed that now, it was Remus who was trembling. Frowning, he pulled back to look at him.

"Are you all right?"

Remus nodded, but his smile was strained, and only now did Severus realise how exhausted he looked, and that he was in no condition to be out of bed.

"You're not." Severus' frown became even deeper. "You should never have got up in the first place; you're not strong enough."

"It's quite all right," Remus insisted, but it was nonsense, and they both knew it. He looked feverish, his skin flushed, with tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You'll go back to bed immediately. And you'll take something for the pain, and the fever."

.-.-.-.

Despite being weak and in pain, Remus had to smile again. Severus's concern about his health made him feel better than any potion could have.

He turned and reached out to the bedside table to pull himself to his feet again, but slumped down again with a pained moan, his hand pressed tightly against his hip. He wouldn't be able to make it alone. When the world had stopped spinning around him, he became aware of someone sitting right next to him, and then a reluctant arm was placed around his waist.

"Let me help you get back."

Looking up, he found himself looking into the tense face of Severus and quickly nodded. It would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible.

In the end, Severus carried rather than led him back – Remus needed almost all his strength to stay conscious despite the blinding pain in his leg. After an eternity, they had made it to his bed, and somehow, without his own doing, he ended up lying, with the blanket spread over him.

Some seconds later, a spoon was held to his lips, and this time, he had no reservations to drink the potion he was offered.

"Good." The spoon disappeared again, and he could feel Severus sit down at the edge of the bed. "And now listen: you will _not_ get up again, no matter whether or not I'll have another dream, is that clear? What were you even thinking? You can barely walk!" Severus sounded more annoyed than worried, but Remus wasn't fooled. "Why would you do something so stupid?"

Remus sighed. He couldn't possibly tell Severus the truth. _"Because I'm in love with you,"_ would only scare Severus away from him.

.-.-.-.-.

Looking down at the drawn face on the pillow in front of him, Severus hesitated. He believed he knew why Remus would go to such lengths to help him, and they would have to talk about it at some point. He was feeling more than just a little uncomfortable with the idea, but after all that had happened tonight, it seemed not so impossible any more to say it – maybe by tomorrow, that would have changed again.

"I think I know it anyway," he finally said, causing Remus to open his eyes and look at him in surprise. He had to force himself to not look away, and it was harder to speak the words than he had imagined at first.

"When you took me for Black, you said…that…that you were…in love with me. Severus."

There was silence for several moments, but then, slowly, Remus nodded. "It's true."

For some inexplicable reason, Severus felt incredibly relieved. He hadn't even realised until now how tensely he had waited for an answer, breath held, fists tightly clenched in his lap.

"But I don't expect anything from you," Remus went on. "Just…I'd like for us to stay friends, is that possible?"

He sounded anxious, and the only response Severus could think of was to take his hand again. It was amazing how quickly he had got used to this.

"Of course it is."

"Thank you." Remus smiled weakly, and Severus managed to return the smile for a few moments.

"I don't know what to make of it," he admitted. "But…I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Remus said. "And I won't mention it again, you needn't worry about it."

He tried to sound confident and as if it didn't matter, but Severus only had to think of Wednesday evening to know that it wasn't true. But he didn't know what to say or do about it, and so he simply stayed silent for a while. In the end, Remus's soft, slow breathing told him that the other man had fallen asleep out of exhaustion. Despite being tired, Severs didn't go to bed immediately, but instead stayed where he was, looking down at his friend in the flickering candlelight for a long time.

Not much happened during the days after this. On Sunday evening, when Madam Pomfrey allowed Severus to leave the infirmary, he felt only marginally better than he had before the short break from his duties. He was no longer in constant danger of a physical breakdown, but he knew that it was only a matter of time until he would reach that point again. There was too much for him to do to take care of himself the way it would have been necessary.

The atmosphere between Remus and him was slightly awkward at first, but soon normalised, much to his relief. Now that they felt mostly comfortable around each other, it would have been hard to lose that feeling again.

But although neither of them mentioned what had been discussed on Saturday night during his daily visits in the infirmary, Severus found it impossible to force his thoughts away from it. They'd talk about the students or books, and sometimes, Severus would bring his chess set, and whenever Remus would smile at him or sometimes simply look at him, he would have to think of the fact that here was a man who claimed to love him…and who behaved as if he meant it.

A week passed, and the next Saturday, the day of the second testing of the Imperius Potion, came. It wasn't as bad as Severus had feared – the potion worked with some of the people he tested it on, while the others merely fell sick and ended up feverish and throwing up, but not dying.

Although it had still been a dreadful task, Severus felt greatly relieved, and when he'd finished his work and reported the good results to the Dark Lord in the late evening, he was looking forward to getting home and maybe reading some more of the _Canterbury Tales_ to take his mind off the day's unpleasant events. He could talk about it tomorrow with Remus – he'd by now almost convinced him to read the book as well.

All his plans for the remaining evening, though, turned into ashes moments later, when he found a familiar blond figure standing next to the fireplace he'd been heading to.

Lucius smiled, darting forward and gripping Severus's arms tightly.

"Severus. Let's talk."

.-.-.-.-.-.

Half an hour later, Severus stumbled out of his own fireplace. He slumped to his knees after a few steps, shaking and barely able to keep himself from hyperventilating.

"Let's talk," Lucius had said, and that was exactly what he had done. For what had felt like forever, he'd kept Severus there, whispering into his ear, his hot breath ghosting over Severus's skin while his hands never loosened their grip on Severus's arms. Severus didn't have the faintest idea what he had talked about, since he hadn't been able to focus on anything but the other man's paralysing closeness. And whatever Lucius might have said, Severus knew it hadn't been important anyway – the only thing Lucius had wanted to achieve was antagonising him, and he'd reached that goal.

Severus closed his eyes, fighting the nausea that was welling up. As he pressed his hands against his stomach, beginning to slightly rock back and forth to help himself calm down, he suddenly found himself thinking of Remus. If Remus were here now, maybe he could help him, like he'd done when Severus had had the nightmares, and the panic attack on his birthday. But Remus was in the infirmary, and by now, it was close to midnight. He would be asleep already. And yet...

Severus forced himself to breathe slowly, the constricting feeling in his chest slowly growing weaker. It took some time until he wasn't gasping for air anymore, and some more time before he'd stopped shaking too badly and could get up again. Without bothering to renew the Glamour charm – everyone else was probably long in bed – he left his rooms and headed for the infirmary.

When he had finally arrived, he closed the door behind him with a sigh of relief. All the way here through the dark corridors of the castle, he hadn't been able to shake off a sense of complete dread, as if Lucius were to turn up behind a corner at any moment, ready to assault him again.

Turning around from the door, he saw that Remus was indeed sleeping, and they were alone. Briefly, the thought of Madam Pomfrey crossed his mind. If she'd been awake, he might have been tempted to try and ask her for help, but she was nowhere to be seen, and he wouldn't wake her for something like this.

Quietly, he made his way over to the other man's bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Remus looked better already than he had a week ago. The black eye was slowly fading, and the expression on his face was less pained than only some days ago. Instead, he looked relaxed, even smiling lightly in his sleep. For the next few minutes, all that Severus did was look at him – it seemed that he would never get tired of seeing him smile. This alone helped him feel better than he would have if he had stayed in his quarters by himself.

But the feeling of Lucius hot breath next to his ear, the sound of his voice, full of malicious glee, and the disgusting experience of being so close to him once more were still fresh in his mind. More than once, Severus meant to sense a presence behind him, or a draught of air on his skin, only to spin around and see nothing, calling himself an idiot.

In the end, after another of these moments of paranoia, he found himself reaching for Remus's hand – and pulled back again immediately. The idea of touching someone – anyone – so shortly after what had happened was not at all pleasant.

Several minutes passed in silence; then, abruptly, Remus shifted in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Severus started at the sudden movement and noise, adrenaline rushing through his veins – and once more he scolded himself for being ridiculous. It seemed that he was scared of his own shadow by now!

Looking down at the sleeping man in front of him, Severus took a deep breath and again reached for his hand. He hesitated, trembling fingers hovering in the air for half a minute, before they slowly curled around Remus's limp ones.

Fighting the tension and irrational fear that threatened to break free, Severus managed to force himself to stay calm. Remus's skin was warm and soft under his touch, just like the previous times. There was no reason to worry – everything was perfectly all right.

Severus closed his eyes, his slightly shallow breathing slowly returning to normal. Yes, everything was all right. Lucius was far from here and wouldn't be able to enter Hogwarts as he pleased. He could scare Severus, make him feel miserable and filthy, but he couldn't take this away from him. And his mocking words from the past, which had haunted Severus for so long – they were lies. Nothing but lies.

_"Friendship and love - you've never had them and never will."_

He had Remus's friendship now, and while the idea of the other man loving him still was too alien to truly believe, he suddenly felt a fierce gratitude for knowing it. Whenever dark thoughts of being worthless and deserving the pain he was going through would threaten him in the future, he could at least cling to the fact that there was one person who thought differently.

Only that it wasn't just one. There was Madam Pomfrey as well, and Albus. Severus shook his head at the sudden insight – he had been so blind! Albus had always been there for him, and if only he had been ready to believe that it was more than a feeling of responsibility on the old man's part – something that Albus had asserted time and again – things might never have reached this point. And he had thanked Albus his care with ignoring him as much as possible. It was a miracle that the headmaster hadn't given up on him by now. But it wasn't too late yet, was it? Maybe Severus could change things between them, at least a little. He might not be able to talk about his problems with him, but he could at least let Albus know that he was grateful.

Half an hour later, Severus left the infirmary with the firm resolution to pay Albus a visit the very next morning.

.-.-.-.-.

Sunday Morning found Severus pacing nervously in his living room. Suddenly, there seemed to be a dozen good reasons why talking to Albus was a bad idea after all. It would be an embarrassing situation to say the very least. And maybe Albus wouldn't want to hear what he had to say anyway. Why would he be interested in anything personal that someone like Severus wanted to tell him? Severus was useful to Albus, no doubt, but maybe he had only imagined that the headmaster did truly care. He could have misinterpreted his actions – he wasn't the most experienced person when friendship was concerned.

Severus raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. This was nonsense, nothing more than silly excuses, and he knew it! Tearing his mind away from this train of thought, he turned around and, determined to get this done, hurried to the door.

Ten minutes later, he was sitting in the chair in front of Albus's desk in the headmaster's office, an awkward silence enfolding the two of them.

.-.-.-.-.

Albus was looking at his Potions teacher in confusion. Severus had come to his office, claiming that they needed to talk about something important, but when he'd asked him what it was, Severus had merely looked down on his hands uncomfortably, not saying anything. Albus had stayed silent as well, wanting to give Severus time to collect his thoughts, but after several minutes, there was still nothing.

"Severus?" he finally ventured carefully. "You know that whatever you want to talk about, I will listen."

The younger man nodded, but still said nothing. He was fidgeting with his hands nervously, clenching and unclenching them in his lap, and the headmaster couldn't help but worry.

"Has something happened? Something I should know of?"

He watched Severus shake his head, then nod immediately afterwards.

"Yes! Yes, something happened," Severus blurted out, his eyes still glued to his hands. "I . . . last night, I realised what a complete idiot I have been all these years. I can't believe I was so stupid . . .so blind!"

By now, Albus felt even more concerned. He had no idea what Severus was talking about, but it seemed to be immensely important to him.

"I always told myself that . . . that you only felt responsible for me, that it couldn't possibly be more. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. That you truly . . . that you do care, that you consider me a . . .a friend." Severus was speaking quickly, his voice harsh, the words almost tumbling over one another. "And after all that you've done, I've never . . . not _once _. . ."

He trailed off, then drew a shaky breath. When he spoke again, it was no more than a whisper. "I just wanted to . . . I wanted you to know . . . that . . . thank you, Albus. For everything."

.-.-.-.-.

Severus felt as exhausted as if he'd fought a strenuous battle. His heart was hammering wildly in his throat, and he had to keep his fists clenched to prevent them from trembling.

When Albus didn't answer for some time, he began to think that this had been a terrible mistake. Most likely, Albus didn't know what to make of his incoherent ramblings. He'd tell Severus that he didn't understand what he meant, or even worse: he would tell him that he was mistaken, and that he was only useful as a spy after all.

"Severus . . ."

Surprised by the headmaster's voice being suddenly so near, Severus looked up to see that Albus had crouched down next to his chair and was now staring at him with a strange expression. He was shocked to see that there were tears in the old man's eyes – never before had he seen him so shaken.

"You are like my own son, Severus," Albus finally said gently. "I've always wanted you to know that I care, but I didn't want to pressure you into talking with me when it was clear that you could not. I'm . . . very glad that you came to me now."

He smiled, and for the first time in years, Severus found it in him to return the smile. "I know better now. Remus . . . he made me understand some things. And I see now that what . . . what Lucius said, that nobody would want to care . . . that it wasn't true."

He was sure Albus knew what he was talking about – the headmaster had seen the memories in the Pensieve more than once.

"You told him about Lucius?" Albus sounded astonished.

"No." Severus shook his head. "I can't." After a moment, he added in a low murmur, "Not yet. Maybe . . . but not yet."

Again, he had lowered his eyes to his hands ad the topic had come up, thinking of how much fun Lucius had appeared to have the previous evening. In doing so, his eyes fell on Albus's hand, which was resting on the armrest of his chair – and before he could think better of it, he'd grasped it tightly. It felt just as warm and comforting as Remus's, and when he'd overcome the first shock at his own actions, Severus slowly allowed himself to breathe again.

The silence that followed was a comfortable one, Severus more and more relaxing. He had made the right decision in coming to talk with Albus. Only some weeks before, he wouldn't have thought it possible, and it made him wonder what else might be possible, given time.

"Yesterday," he finally whispered. "Yesterday, he . . . Lucius . . ." He couldn't go on, but it wasn't necessary.

Albus was holding his hand with both of his own now, just as Remus had done a week ago, and for a fleeting moment, Severus wished that he might also hold him like Remus had. But then the moment was gone, and suddenly, it was all too much: the other man's touch, the unfamiliar physical and emotional closeness.

Thankfully, Albus seemed to sense his discomfort, and he took his hands away and got up, making room for Severus to stand as well. With a few quick steps, Severus distanced himself from the headmaster.

"I . . . I think I'll take a walk on the grounds," he said. He needed to be alone now.

"All right. Will you come and use the Pensieve later?"

Severus nodded. He would keep their agreement, even if he should decide to tell Remus about Lucius in the future – something of which he was not yet sure at all. The idea that it might be possible had come to him only a few minutes ago when Albus had mentioned it. But there was one thing he was perfectly certain of now: that he wanted Albus to know what was happening to him, much more so than before, when he hadn't understood why the old wizard would care to know.

"I'm very proud of you, Severus," Albus said as he opened the door to leave. "Thank you."

Again, Severus merely nodded in response – it seemed that he'd run out of words for now. When he closed the door behind himself, he was glad that it was over, but also glad about of the change that had taken place between them.

For the next two hours, he took an extended walk on the school grounds and the land beyond, and after that, he busied himself with correcting essays. He spent a pleasant afternoon playing chess with Remus in the infirmary, and when he left him after dinner to go to the library and work some more on the improved Wolfsbane Potion, he felt better than he could remember feeling in years. This night, he slept without dreams for once.


End file.
